The Wind Westward Blows
by Jazzcat
Summary: A collection of memoirs from a Narnian centaur.
1. Centaur Wisdom

Being a centaur is not as easy as it looks.

I'm not necessarily speaking about our existence, as existence comes naturally to every creature, and centaurs are no exception. An exhilarating gallop across the golden Plains is a glorious experience any could envy, and especially after being crippled for a few months, I no longer take the use of four hooves for granted.

Simply put, centaurs are sought out often by creatures seeking answers. We're supposed to have all the answers. We're supposed to be wise and thoughtful, all-seeing and all-knowing. Such a reputation is not easy to live up to.

Loath as I am to shatter illusions, centaurs have their weaknesses. We are indeed servants of Aslan, and Aslan gives us insight into the future. Wisdom is elusive, and it is granted by degrees throughout one's life. I know that I, for one, seek to impart wisdom whenever I can, but I don't have all the answers. I am only 263 years old. I can look into the stars and interpret the signs Aslan has placed there, but I have my limitations (to my overwhelming frustration). I do try. If you seek me out, I will do my best. If you are sick, I will use my knowledge of herblore to find a cure. If you are sad, I'll listen to your tale and offer solace. If you are happy, I'll share your joy. If you want a friend, I'll be there.

But ultimately, I cannot give you proper justification to fight the giants of Wildefriese because they slaughtered a creature close to you in cold blood. I cannot bring your friend back to life. I cannot find lost friends who have hidden themselves in Archenland. I cannot explain the meaning of life. I cannot find you a mate, nor can I help you choose between two or more possible mates, nor can I give the perfect definition of what love is, though I myself have found it. I cannot cure buttercup rash, bad breath, or the common cold.

Sometimes the only way to solve an issue is to seek out Aslan himself. That is the greatest wisdom I have to offer.


	2. Perfect

As I stood on the grassy knolls of Farvane's Range, watching the sun rise over the trees, I paused to ponder the beauty around me. Rare are the moments in life when one suddenly stops and takes stock of one's gifts, as I found myself doing; but I lowered my bow after emptying my quiver yet again and just... stood there, light of limb and soft of spirit, watching gold peacefully invade the skies and realizing the full bounty of what I have been given, feeling old and young, ancient and reborn, caught somewhere between a shattered but meaningful past and a bright future in a present I still cannot believe is reality, and not some wild dream I conjured up to pass the dreary hours in the apothecary.

I was crippled once - more in soul than body. When Maeta cut my tendons and took away my freedom, she cut also into my heart and took away my dignity and sense of self-worth. Dignity to a centaur is a mane to a lion or a horn to a unicorn - to lose it is a dethroning, and without it, one cannot feel complete. It's the sort of feeling you get when you leave the Council Ring, and you have this constant thought nattering at you that surely you've forgotten to bring something dreadfully important, and you don't know what.

Thank Aslan that Maeta didn't cut off my tail, but still...

I hid myself away, too ashamed to be seen. I wanted to forget the sun, and the wind, and trees; everything and everyone in Narnia. Only the stars saw my tears while I lived in shadow. I gave up the dream of running again. My existence was a cold and empty void, where no thought, or memory, or the barest spark of light dwelt. I chased them away because they were all too painful. They reminded me of times past that would never be again. In my self-created shell, it was as terrible as the Long Winter - cold and dark with no hope of spring - but it was better than living in a light that could no longer be mine.

When I gave up on all my dreams, Aslan gave them back to me.

They materialized in the form of a strange centaur fishing on the riverbank. I came upon him suddenly, and before I could retreat, he saw me. He was nut-brown, the very picture of autumn, with a mane as shaggy as Aslan's, if not shaggier. His eyes were mostly obscured by his fringe, but once in a while the breeze would blow aside the longer strands, and the piercing gentleness that glittered through would have frozen the Great River all over again, and then warmed it to the very core with a different sort of warmth, a warmth that would make the river grateful to have been frozen for an instant just to receive that fresh flood of sweet fire.

He looked up and smiled at me, and he said to me: "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Wrong thing to say to a centaur without dignity, without beauty; possessing only crippled legs and entire maps of scars and a stigma and a broken heart. Frozen over again, I mumbled something about Aslan watching over him and marched coldly away, determined never to speak to him again. I managed to avoid him for days, but Narnia was simply not big enough to keep us apart. When we met again, I tried to limp off, but he darted around to face me and dropped to his knees before me and begged my forgiveness for an offense he didn't even know he had committed.

That's when I looked into his eyes.

His hair had fallen away like a mask, and there he was: Eolas Windsong, my future husband, my steadfast love and truest friend. It would be a long time before either of us fully comprehended the gift we had been given, and each of us separately had to walk through fire to reach a place where we could even be open to each other. After many nights of tears, and the sort of anger a cornered fox would lash out with, Eolas and I turned to each other for comfort and solace. How I hurt Eolas during that time... it is still painful to recall. That Eolas stayed with me through those dark and terrible days was nothing short of a miracle.

Now here I stand on this green hill, under a blessed dawn, married to my truest love, sharing his name, his life, and his heart; watching unrealized dreams such as marriage and motherhood come true; pregnant for nearly two months with our foal - our foal. I am a member of the Council Ring, my scars inside and out have faded, my legs are steadily strengthening, I can run, and I feel so alive. So alive! Strength and vitality flow through me like the warmth of Eolas's Great River. But most of all... peace. Serenity. I have a calm in my soul, deep as the pools of Torspring, endless as the depths of the stars.

Life, at the moment, is perfect.


	3. Maeta Returns

Such great moments in life as the dawn on Farvane's Range are short-lived. I am living proof of that, but I am happy to be living at all.

Yesterday, I went fishing on the marshes. I used to like the marshes more than I do now, but this swampland was the site of a giant attack for me once, and I haven't forgotten how I barely crawled back into the apothecary just in the nick of time. One more smash with one of those nasty clubs and I would have been knocked unconscious, and I shudder to think beyond that. Giants are not known for mercy and kindness.

The brown-green marsh was quiet, the very picture of peace and serenity. I was looking for marsh eels and found none. Not even one. I caught small golden carp from the murky waters and listened to the wakening sounds of frogs and crickets in the cattails, and muses overtook me.

The night before had not been a good one - I had chased a wayward drunken faun who was singing at the top of her lungs all the way from Barfield to Beruna and into the Great River. Kalen and I saved her from drowning herself, and we followed her as she staggered into the dwarf inn called the Splintered Axe, where she drank even more ale until she passed out. Then I returned to Barfield and found Eolas, and he soothed away my fears and frustrations of the day as handily as ever, and I nearly forgot the whole incident, tumultuous as the trial had been. We drew songs from the wells of our hearts and sang each other into dreams, and I fell asleep in the fortress of his arms.

The next morning, I sat beside him and watched him sleep for hours. There is something sacred about watching one's beloved sleep; and when I stroked his hair, the dignified lines in his face softened, and I could tell his dreams were good ones. After a long while of silently praising Aslan for the gift of Eolas, I arose and went out onto the open blue-skied wilderness of the Great Plains, planning a picnic for the two of us. I plucked Chicories - a favorite of Eolas's - then went to Sted Cair and bought a wineskin, which is a rare treat for us. In fact, we haven't drank wine since our wedding reception. I purchased sausage also and brought a bowl of fruit salad, and since I was so close to the marshes, I decided to look for eels.

There weren't any. There weren't any fish at all, hardly, except for a few stray carp swimming near the ramshackle Marsh Wiggle huts. I sold these to Higgledrum, the Wiggle who owns the fish shop, and was on my way back to the Plains Road and, eventually, Barfield, when I stopped to pluck honeysuckles.

Suddenly an arrow flew out of the marshes and embedded itself in a patch of grass near my hooves to the right.

My eyes widened, and I fled south. Then I came rushing back to have a look at the dart - it was a scathing arrow! A second arrow emerged from the trees and, before I could twist aside, it embedded itself with a sickening jolt in my right horse shoulder. A scream tore from my lips just as the ground began to shake.

A giant was coming!

I found my hooves and half-cantered, half-hobbled southwards toward the town square, and I felt the earthquake coming closer. Normally I could have easily outrun him, but my progress was slowed considerably by my wounded shoulder, and he emerged like a monster from a nightmare. It was the hideous giant chieftain himself, flashing green eyes and deadly Ettinsword and all - the same giant who had terrorized Eolas and me on our wedding day!

I gave a shrill scream and managed to struggle a little deeper into Sted Cair. Thank Aslan for the castle archers! A storm of arrows sang down and stung the giant, and he didn't like that very much. Off he thundered, swatting and batting comically at his own head. And I hid behind the majestic statue of Aslan, bleeding profusely, my hand pressed just above the offending arrow - a scathing arrow, the very worst kind. A suspicion had begun to form in my mind, so as soon as I got up the courage, I gingerly ventured northward again and studied the tracks littering the pathway.

I was right. A giant and a succubus. Maeta had returned.

And who should come upon me just then but the faun I had pursued from Barfield to the Great Woods herself, holding her head as if she were nursing a nasty hangover: Calya. She woke up right away when she saw my pathetic condition, and she helped me into the dreaded apothecary. I do hate that place, honestly. Speedwell the hare keeps a tidy enough shop, but it's hard for me to stand the apothecary after being forced to abide there as a cripple for so long.

In addition to being a faun who sings loud drinking songs at all hours of the night and drains the kegs from Barfield to Beruna dry, Calya is also a wonderful healer and my best friend. (For the record, I had never seen her drunk before; current events understandably pushed her over the edge, and she herself admits to becoming soused only twice in her life.) Starlight the white winged mare offered what comfort she could as Calya pulled the arrow out - not an experience I would ever wish for again. It felt as if Calya were wrenching off my entire limb and shoulder.

The wound was bandaged, but I am not out of the woods yet, so to speak. I lost a lot of blood and am very weak. I cannot move for the fiery pain; the rest of the time, it's a cold, sore ache all over my body, and I huddle inside a blanket for warmth. The baby could be in danger... I have no way of knowing. Calya worries I may be bleeding internally. I try not to think about whether or not the trauma of the whole incident might have harmed my foal... it is a possibility, but the very thought is enough to crush my spirit entirely, so I dare not dwell on it. All I can do is pray, and cling to hope.

Eolas came to see me. Riyal told him about the incident on my careful instructions; I was determined that he was not to be upset or panicked too greatly, so she broke the news with utmost care. Nonetheless he came cantering in, and I just held my arms out to him and whispered his name before he put his arms around me and drew me close. I was safe, and I was safe to cry. I told him the whole story, and he tensed with anger and promised to kill Maeta, but he rocked me gently and said everything would be alright.

He's gone now. He galloped into the night to find Lady Aziara, the great wolf healer, and bring her to Sted Cair to see me. But the strength and warmth he brought me has not departed. I dreamt about him last night. He was galloping under moon and stars over silver-frosted plains, and I was right with him, hovering over him like a winged creature; and he knew I was there, and it lent speed to his powerful hooves as he raced the night wind into Lantern Waste, seeking Ulfden. When I am awake, I worry for his safety. But in my heart I can feel that he's alright, and I know he will come back to me very soon. He gave me his word, and he never breaks his promises.

Calya is watching over me now. The poor faun fainted; she has been stretched far past her limit, seeing me shot like this. She has a very tender heart - the heart of a knight, the kindness of a dryad and the wisdom of a centaur, as I have often said (two nights ago notwithstanding) - and she has never before pulled an arrow from any creature, let alone one she knew was pregnant. Her hands were shaking so hard as she reached for the shaft. I find it miraculous that she has soldiered bravely on thus far.

There is nothing for me to do now but wait. Tomorrow Calya may dream up more necessary tortures for the treatment of my shoulder, which I am happy to put off; but for now, there is nothing to do but think... and try not to think.

Fortunately the apothecary has been anything but empty since my arrival. Starlight is keeping me company, and her mate Devlin joined her this morning, and he has not left since. The leopards Riyal and Kalen are my constant companions, of course. Marjan, the noble lion who has become my sparring partner and a dear friend, lets me sleep with my head on his back, and his fur is close to the color of Eolas's hair, so I rather appreciate having the great cat so near. He is a very wise creature, warm and deliberate, noble in bearing and grave of nature; and I find everything he does soothing. His deep purring reverberates right through me so that it feels as if I am the one purring. It's a powerful anesthetic and puts me right to sleep.

Hurry back to me, Eolas. I need your presence far more than Aziara's, though I know you won't rest until you have found her and secured her help. But please hurry back.


	4. Battles of the Mind

The apothecary has become Grand Central Station, whatever that is. At least, that's what the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve would call it.

There is hardly a dull moment here. Cyrus the tiger even came, and I had not before made his acquaintance. Gwaihir the eagle and even Silverpaws, the lady fox, stopped by for a visit. Silverpaws can be sharpish at times, but I enjoy her company. Calya remarked that I must be tired of retelling the story of Maeta and the arrows in the marshes. I hadn't noticed, honestly. I got used to the barrage of systematic questionings when I was crippled a few months ago, and the curious flocked to ask how I had lost my mobility.

Already I miss the wind, though the constant flow of traffic and the warm companionship does keep me from dwelling on it too much. Marjan has been one of my strongest allies, and his calm demeanor and wise words are most welcome in these hours. Kalen and Riyal are keeping me well fed, and I have no worries at all. There is nothing to do but rest and share laughter with them. But after the realization that I won't be able to run for awhile sinks in, it will hurt. Badly. I look forward to it as much as I anticipated having that nasty arrow yanked out in the first place.

I shall have a scar on my shoulder from hereafter as a constant reminder.

The arrow was not poisoned, thank Aslan. That was one of our greatest fears, voiced by Calya. It is not festered or infected, and I am happy to say also that, because of its current state, Calya did not have to perform another painful cleaning. I am also regaining strength.

Beyond the external hustle and bustle, a battle rages within.

Maeta's greatest weapon is fear. She wields it over minion and foe alike. Fear to the minions is security and coercions, as she proves herself strong enough to serve while forcing them to serve her whims. To the foes, which would be the territories of Narnia - and, should she achieve her objective and conquer our part of the world, Archenland also - she wields fear as a device to take over with greater ease.

Already, I have decided not to venture onto the marshes again unless the need be dire, as it is the site of two attempts on my life. There are safer places in Narnia to fish. Lantern Waste has a similar reputation for danger, and it has become a haunt of werewolves. The Great Plains are her next target, surely; she will want to stage another battle in Beruna, the site of the White Witch's downfall. If she succeeds, Maeta will have done what the White Witch could not, and she will prove herself the stronger.

These thoughts are foremost in my mind, and I am well aware that Maeta's dominion begins first in the mind before she conquers physical land. Thus, I must fight. If she wins over me, Narnia will fall; it will begin with one. So from here on out, I shall not discourage trips to Lantern Waste and the marshes. I will only say that one must take a companion and not be caught there alone. There is safety in numbers, and much can be learned from the herding creatures in times like ours.

Friends like Marjan, Kalen, Riyal, Calya, Starlight, Gwaihir, Devlin, and Silverpaws are critical to waging mental wars. Thanks to them, I find strength and courage to press on, and the love of Eolas is always with me. This is a battle we can win, and I am determined to see it through. I love my country. I love Narnia. I love our Royals. I love freedom. I will do whatever is necessary to see that Narnia remains the paradise Aslan created it to be.


	5. A Friendly Menace

Being at the current center of Narnian society, I hear many things. I know of all that goes on. And I know there is trouble in paradise.

Niffum the dwarf, too tired to reach her inn, curled up under a spreading tree in the peaceful Great Woods and fell asleep. When she awoke, she found that her belongings had been neatly lifted. She lost 400,000 coins - a fortune her betrothed Tullhonan left her before he was lost to an attack of the enemy - along with her pack and other miscellaneous items.

Starlight the winged mare settled in for a nap beside a well-used track in the center of Beruna, right outside the Laughing Jackdaw inn. She had lost a pack and her humble worldly wealth by the next morning. That, after Starlight ventured into Madderholt and ended up stirring the wrath of the hot-tempered dwarfs. They fainted her, though she was clearly pregnant, and threw her out into a valley. She woke up alone and is missing part of an ear as a permanent reminder never to mess with axe-wielding dwarfs again.

There are more cases, but these are the most recent. These incidents have occurred too deep in Narnian territory to have been the work of Ettinsmoorian residents. This was most assuredly an inside job.

Now I might blame the renegade faun Lestes. The young fellow is a happy-go-lucky faun, recently arrived in Narnia from... possibly Archenland. I am not entirely sure of his background. I do know he is a reputed liar, a known pickpocket (Calya suspects he robbed her), and he views life as a game. Yet there is something more to him that I cannot entirely define. I wish I knew him better. He is a mystery, a puzzle to unravel; but he has a soft side. He truly cares for Calya, though I know not how far he will go to capture her heart and take care of her when there are easier female conquests to be had, as Bergdale abounds with lovesick lady fauns. Lestes does genuinely wish Calya were not so sad. He was upset when he saw that I was hurt and offered to lend a hand - no strings attached.

So Lestes is not all he appears to be.

Furthermore, there is Camo the leopard. Here in the apothecary, there is an enormous sack which belongs to me. I have set it down and shared it with everyone, since even the visitors get hungry. They keep their supplies there. I awoke and found my wineskin and my sausage, which I was saving for Eolas, vanished, and Camo's tracks fresh on the ground. Camo's main haunts are the Great Plains and the Great Woods, where the robberies of Starlight and Niffum took place respectively. This leads me to believe that perhaps there is more to the leopard than meets the eye...

With the return of Maeta, I can feel evil stirring again, like faint tremors rippling along the black veins of Narnia. Her spies are wakening. Very soon, she will draw all of them to herself, and there will be fresh assaults against us. We must be prepared, for if there is fighting among our own ranks, we will be weakened against the attacks of the northern territories.

In my pregnant condition (which I hope to keep secret to all but a select inner circle for the time being), I cannot fight on the moors, for the sake of my foal and my wonderful lifemate, whose heart and happiness I would never blithely risk. But errant Narnians, I can handle. I will do what I can - for the good of Narnia, for the good of a country I hope to leave with my son or daughter someday. Eolas and I will be parents, and I want to give my baby a chance at a great life, at whatever cost, no matter what I must sacrifice. I will begin by tracking down and questioning at length both Lestes and Camo as soon as I am released from the apothecary. I will resume my training with Marjan. I trust him, since he is careful of my baby while we spar.

Evil Narnians, beware. Spies of Maeta, I will find you. Whoever you are, wherever you are hiding, I will root you out and deal with you myself. This is my duty as a member of the Council Ring; this is my duty as a citizen of free Narnia and as a parent.


	6. An Oxymoron: Marsh Wiggle Healers

Sombersigh the Marsh Wiggle is a healer.

The most frightening healer in all of Narnia, in fact. Her prognosis for you will be predictably grim, as tripping over a rock will get you a cut from which you will probably pass away after it gets infected. Yes, infection is inevitable, I lament. In order to prevent it, you must drink a small flask of Mire Essence (with mysterious swamp ingredients) and get smeared with Trout Paste, a rather stinky affair - not that it will do much good, mind you. Your leg will still have to be amputated and, even then, you'd best set your affairs in order, and pick a nice spot somewhere and have your friends start digging.

This is a Marsh Wiggle healer's philosophy.

When Sombersigh came to see me, she had me thoroughly frightened with her dour proclamations of illness and doom. She seemed rather disappointed that Starlight's ear would not have to be amputated and I, being quite helpless to resist her should the Wiggle suddenly decide to act in my "best interests", was nervous because of my vulnerability. Thus Eolas came to my rescue and defense, and angered by the whole incident, he would not leave my side while she was about, and is furious enough to have called her a charlatan.

Sombersigh is not a charlatan. She's a Marsh Wiggle and that, from a certain point of view, is perfectly understandable. She has practiced the art of healing for decades and learned from her grandmother. She knows what she's doing. But being an extreme pessimist, her prediction for you will be that somehow, some way, you will perish. There is little anyone can do; she are only prolonging the inevitable, so you might as well face facts and get over it.

Such pessimism is a real drag, but there is a certain wisdom in it. A Marsh Wiggle will never ever suffer disappointment or dashed hopes because they always imagine the worst case scenario and proceed with the knowledge that it will surely rain on the pretty picnic of life. Thus, perhaps Marsh Wiggles are more at peace than the rest of the ambitious creatures in the world. Their expectations will always be met or exceeded. Their dreams will come true or turn out better - but of course, if it does turn out for the better, it surely won't last.

That's nice for Marsh Wiggles, but I still choose hope. It's a far less drear existence, and there is plenty of truth and wisdom to living in the sunlight. On all paths, there are rocks and skies; upturn any rock and you'll find it crawling with beetles and worms and all manner of less-than-palatable critters. Else, ignore the rocks and see the skies above you, be they sunny, or starry, or even cloudy; because you know the clouds will pass, and the sun will shine again, and in the meantime, while storms persist, above it all there still remains the sun, and the stars, and the moon. That is faith. It takes faith to believe the sun will rise in the morning.

So I cling to faith and hope, and I live on love. The love of Aslan, the love of Eolas, and the warm love of many good friends whom I would die for and who would give their lives for me also. Welcome to paradise.


	7. Marsh Wiggle Healers Continued

Sombersigh the Marsh Wiggle healer cured me.

Much to her disappointment, perhaps. I am learning that not all pain and fear is a dreadful thing. Sombersigh came to the apothecary with her little jar of stinky Trout Paste, droning on and on about how I really should let her amputate my leg so I could have a few more days left and getting gobs of that awful stuff in my hair.

Suddenly I reached my limit. I lurched backwards onto my hind legs, braced my left foreleg stiffly against the ground, and rose up onto my hooves, trembling, my right foreleg curled slightly as waves of pain rolled through my shoulder. I drew myself up, fixed my eyes on her, and declared shakily:

"I... will... NOT... die!"

Sombersigh got the message, packed up her smelly ointments and padded off to find gloom elsewhere in her swamp. But I have made an incredible discovery: Sombersigh is no charlatan. Sombersigh is not a horrible Marsh Wiggle. Sombersigh is not wrong.

Sombersigh is one of Narnia's best healers. I am walking proof. Perhaps I will go and see her again sometime... but not for the birth of my foal. I'll let someone gentle like Calya or Aziara take care of our little family when my time comes.

But Sombersigh does know how to cure what ails you; I'll give her that.


	8. Comatose

Darkness... that's all I know. It's cold here, and lonely, and I can't see anything. Eolas is crying close by. I hear him, sometimes... smatterings of broken words breaking into the world of perpetual dream. At least he's still with me.

I see things. I saw a gray mist creep out of the northern wastelands and cover over Narnia to the Great Woods, and a huge blue dragon rose out of the shadowed trees; his fearsome bat-like wings outspread and his greedy eyes searching the gloom. I heard harsh laughter to the north, and turning, I beheld the black-cloaked and shrouded form of Maeta, standing at the entrance to the gorge slicing through Ettinsmoor, watching with wicked red eyes. What was she once? Why did she turn to evil? She must have had some power at one time, and Aslan surely let her govern over a portion of his beautiful realm, so... why? She's a riddle, a great paradox; but stop to puzzle her out and she'll strike you down.

Mercy is for the weak. Mercy will make you weak. The weak will perish. She cackles at me, and I hear her harsh words echoing in my mind.

For Eolas and for my baby, I can't even try to help her. If I have the misfortune of meeting her, I must forget remorse and fight her as a cornered animal would. She's very powerful, and if I make one wrong move, one miscalculation, one tiny underestimation of what she's capable of... I'm dead.

Dark shapes move though the trunks, shapes with hungry glowing eyes and dripping fangs. Wolves. Werewolves. And other creatures I don't want to know about. I shudder and start backwards, towards the river, wondering. Why are they here? What do they want?

I want to panic. But I cannot give way to terror, or they will have me. Grimly I cling to my survival instincts and move backwards hoof by hoof down the muddy bank, letting the frothing water engulf me and carry me like a piece of driftwood into the foggy gray blindness and, hopefully, to safety...

There are more eyes like pale lamps gleaming along the foaming banks I pass. I keep my head low and swim without splashing, trying my best to go unseen... and unheard... but surely they can hear my heart slamming in my throat. At times like these, I wish I were an otter, or, better yet, completely invisible.

I reach the mouth of the sea and climb dripping onto the twilight land, glancing around. They're still here, still pursuing in on me. I break into a canter, showers of riverwater washing off my coat and leaving a clearly marked trail for them to follow. I clench my teeth, forget my weariness, and force my heavy hooves to churn faster. I look up; Sted Cair is just ahead...

But suddenly a whole line of mangy werewolves and smelly giants melt out of nowhere and block my way, erecting a fortress around me. With a cry I rise up on my hind legs and strike out at the overpowering stench. I kick at a wolf, and he snaps at my fragile hock. I strike a puny fist at a giant; he laughs mockingly at me and I come away with sore knuckles. I'm powerless. They're everywhere... I'm surrounded... they're tightening the circle like a noose around me and there's no way out...

Eolas? Eolas! The scream nearly breaks from my throat.

But I hold back that desperate cry. I don't want him to know. I don't want him here. I don't want him to die with me. And he will... if I call to him... and I can't let that happen. I won't. I only pray, as I see my own doom reflected in the fiery yellow eyes of the nearest black werewolf, that the neevils will drag me away and Eolas will never find me, will never know what happened to me, will never know the pain and terror I suffered in my last hour...

Suddenly, a hurricane smashes into the grim line of werewolves and giants like the sound of a rushing wind. I stumble backwards, disoriented and confused. Where is it coming from? Why are they running, swatting at their own heads as if at swarms of bees? Why are the ones who inflicted fear now afflicted by the same calamity?

Arms catch me before I fall: Strong, warm, welcoming arms. I look up into the determined brown eyes of Eolas. Arrows... that is the swarm bothering our enemies. I look and see the line of neevils replaced by a new line: This one of tall centaur warriors, twoscore strong, clad in battle armor and aiming their bows with deadly precision. But I can't stay; Eolas has an arm around my back and is leading me firmly away, and I have no choice but to follow - I'm too weary and shaky to resist. He takes me to a sheltered thicket to the east, and there we find peace and quiet. He gently lays me down among the lush greenery in the serene twilight, and his gaze is upon me - a stern but tender gaze. How does he manage to capture both emotions at once in a single glance?

Eolas says nothing. But he stays with me, and fear, and weariness, and all other oppressions that go with them dissipate and run like the neevils for the border of Ettinsmoor. Then he draws me close and holds me against him, and I fall asleep.

And when I wake up... it's over. The Council Sanctuary is dark, and the starlit air is clear, and the ground is stony, but I'm sleeping on Eolas's familiar cloak. How long have I been here? It's night, I can see that plainly, and Eolas is sleeping restlessly beside me. I put my hand on his forehead and feel lines of stress and worry, and that bothers me. My shoulder feels different... a little better, I think. I move it cautiously to test its improvement. Apparently I've been out for awhile. I don't know how I got to the Council Sanctuary. But just feeling the tension of Eolas, I know there is some tale to tell, and I know for surety that Eolas was suffering.

My heart aches for my beloved, and I rub at his forehead, smoothing some of those lines away. He stirs slightly at my touch, but he stills like a child when I give him a soft kiss on the cheek. He breathes a tremendous sigh, and I watch him fall into a deeper sleep.

My head hurts. I should be hungry, but I'm not. All I want to do is sleep...

And so I do. But this time, it's a different sort of sleep, not the all-consuming blackness where nightmares and loneliness dwell. This time, I will wake up in the morning and find that fear has taken a step backwards. Those dreams, unreal as they are, teach wisdom. From such dreams, I learn a great many things; but many of those insights are hidden from others until the time is right. So I will not elaborate on them further.

I will only say: Never give up. Fight always.


	9. Eight Thousand Coins

Eolas spent 8,000 coins on me last night.

That was hard for me to deal with. We work hard for our income - fishing and selling our catches to Cretarius the Faun and his shop in Bergdale, or gathering medicinal plants such as gorse and yarrow for a smaller reward from Soporus. After I sparred with Neko the lion (and lost), Eolas went without hesitation to the south and returned a few moments later with a blue potion.

From anyone else, I would have refused. I don't rely on potions, but prefer to heal naturally on my own after a spar. It's just a spar, and I'm not going to die; and in the past I almost resented it when another creature offered me a potion, as if I would collapse without it. I may be a lady-mare, but I am a tough old thing, and however pallid my coloring might appear after a fiercely competitive duel, my spirit is unbroken. And after a moment of lying down and bleeding, I'll rise up again, ready to fight once more.

But Eolas is still worried about me. He maintains his anger towards Sombersigh and perhaps all Marsh Wiggles in general, no matter what I say. The recent incidents - nearly losing me to Maeta's arrow, the concern over infection and how the baby might be faring - have all taken a dire toll on him. I try to jest, I try to be light-hearted and humorous about the whole thing... but his heart is aching over what might have been, and my laughter falters at his grave continence. He himself admitted hovering over me like a mother hen, but were our places reversed, I would be even worse. Thus I cannot begrudge him this, and almost I welcome it, because it helps him feel better...

I don't know what else to do for him, really. It is very strange to be taken care of. I am used to doing things myself. I take fierce pride in taking care of myself. Now I am made to sit by while he works hard in my stead. Yet somehow, I don't feel badly about accepting his ministrations, or about being made to feel weak by him. It is his way of expressing his love for me, and I would want to do the same if it were Eolas with a wounded shoulder. He has given me the gift of weakness. Strange and beautiful as it is, I am delighted to surrender - to love.

So I accepted his potion and drank deeply to health, and suddenly it didn't matter that two or three solid days of fishing were spent impulsively in what might have been extravagance. Because when I accepted that potion from him, I accepted not a potion, or eight thousand coins, or a sudden return to health and vigor, sped through my body by the magic of Soporus' special blend of herbs.

I accepted his love.

How sweet it is. I will forever drink to that.


	10. Cats

I am a cat centaur.

Don't ask me why. Felines are all around me, and I count cats as some of my best friends. When I was in exile, my first companion was Riyal the black leopard, whom I found in my lonely wanderings. She was just an orphan cub in those days, mewling like a helpless kitten, and I couldn't bear to leave her out there in the winter snows. I did my best to raise her, and we grew into inseparable companions, mutually benefitting from our friendship as we could split up and hunt for food on the cold mountain.

Four years later, Riyal brought something else back from her hunting expedition, carrying him carefully in her jaws and depositing him on the stone: A little white snow leopard cub we named Kalen Wild.

Neither of us could resist those big blue eyes, or the young free-hearted personality, the playful mischief, or the innocence of little Kalen. We hunted doubly hard for our small family, but food was very scarce up on the mountain. I had observed the recent fading of winter in the greening world below us, but I dared not trust the land's mood shift; I had had my brush with death under the dominion of the White Witch and was not eager to tempt fate again. But because of Kalen, I was forced to come down - or face starvation for the three of us. I told Riyal and Kalen to stay on Mount Tor until I was sure of our safety, and I promised I would send word to them if all went well. After a heart-wrenching, tearful farewell, I descended the mountainside alone.

Once in Narnian territory, I met more felines. Neko the lion was one of the first and has remained one of my truest friends. Torwin and Ahrai the leopards were others I was pleased to follow in my early re-explorations of a world that was almost unfamiliar to me, after a hundred years of absence.

I was hardly down from the mountain a month when Torwin, Ahrai, Neko and I - along with the winged horses Devlin and Starlight - went on the ill-fated rescue mission which ultimately led to a long night in a burning tower and a long convalescence for me, as I grappled with my sudden paralytic state. So I did not send word to the cats on the mountain. Kalen and Riyal came down to find me and discovered me in the apothecary, confined to bed, scarred and wrapped in bandages and surrounded by... cats.

What a delightful reunion that was! More than once, I have stayed in their dens in Catbrier Thicket, despite my own home in the Lowlands being not hard to reach.

Kalen has grown into a fine leopard, I am proud to say; exchanging the awkward stage of adolescence for a lithe, clean-limbed, thick-coated body, soft and white with dusty black spots; yet his irresistible blue eyes still maintain all the innocence of cubhood. I think of him as I would my own foal. He's headstrong, sometimes hot-tempered, unerringly determined to fight for what's right, surprisingly wise, and supremely witty. Rainstorms stop when Kalen arrives, and the sun shines at any hour of the night when he pads up. On the inside, I think he'll always maintain a happy kitten-like disposition, and I love him the more for it.

Riyal is a dignified female who never says much, but quietly observes her surroundings. She can be merry, but is rarely ever so without Kalen at her side. She prowls like a shadow, her piercing green eyes taking in her world. When she walks with me, she likes to move beside me, stride for stride, as we did in our mountain years. Riyal cares for all she can and treats every creature as if she were their mother cat. Her sweet heart is a blessing to the beasts who know her.

Ahrai and Torwin haven't been out much of late. Occasionally I see them, fishing by the Great River or hunting in the Great Woods, and a nobler or kinder pair of leopards you'd be hard-pressed to find. They are brave at need, and they spar and play like the other felines do, and they were happy to include me also, as if I were one of their own kind. When Soren the chipmunk was taken into Ettinsmoor by the giant, Ahrai and Torwin never hesitated to join the posse, and when the Watch Tower burnt to cinders under Maeta's lantern oil, they risked their lives trying to bring me out of the rubble.

Neko the great lion was another on that night's expedition, and he stayed til the very end to see that I was brought out alive with Wicken the otter. When I was a permanent inmate of the apothecary, he came frequently to visit me, bringing gifts of food and friendship. He has gone through the Great Woods to show me the hidden paths running through those dense trees. He has gathered the elusive - and expensive - ingredients necessary to cook high-quality breakfasts so we could impress the dwarfs responsible for forging flaying knives.

I am heartbroken when I think of Neko these days, because he lost his dear love, the lioness Idril to whom he was betrothed, under the merciless crush of a giant's club. I found Neko that night, glassy-eyed and despondent, keeping faithful vigil near her motionless form in the apothecary.

Losing Idril was devastating. To his great credit, he has done all he can to put it behind him... but I know he hurts inside. Sometimes I see a shadow cloud his eyes, or his smile fade to wistfulness and silent sighs. Just last night, I caught him whispering her name to the night wind. Oh, were that life were not so cruel for us who remain behind, alone, while our loved ones move on to the blessed realm of Aslan's Country.

It is our comfort to know that we, one day, will follow them.

Recently, I was privileged to make the acquaintance of yet another cat: Marjan, another majestic lion. He has not yet joined the Pride, so he runs rogue for the time being. Personally, it is my belief - and secret hope - that Marjan will one day become a knight, a protector of Narnia.

Marjan is a mighty cat, slow and deliberate, wise, and good. I feel safe in his presence. He radiates warmth and security, and something about him reminds me of Eolas... something besides the rich mahogany color of his golden fur. We became fast friends and sparring partners, and we share confidences and dreams under the serenity of starlit fields, brushed by silvery-blue moon breezes and quiet but for the soft songs of crickets and bullfrogs. On such evenings, the world ceases to turn and the heavens fall like glittering snowflakes around us, and I feel rested when it comes time to depart for real sleep. For every hour spent near Marjan, a year passes, and one feels invigorated when it ends.

I thank Aslan for these cats whom I am blessed to call my friends. Aslan himself gave them his own form, and on many days, they have been the presence of Aslan to me: Chasing away loneliness, bringing food for hungry stomachs, showing the way in bewildering forests, giving words of wisdom, building weary muscles, kindling hope on starless nights, and sometimes just being there in their quiet, dignified, feline way: Warm bundles of purring fur that cause me to forget troubles and relax, growing inexorably sleepy. None can withstand the power of the purring cat.

May their roars ever resound over the fields of Narnia.


	11. Losing Idril

Occasionally I return to Sted Cair and check in on the apothecary, bringing with me food for anyone who might be bedridden with illness or injury. Honestly that is only half the reason I go there.

Part of me still haunts those walls. Being there for nearly two months as a cripple was a life-changing experience that I have yet to fully decipher. It lurks like a ghost in my soulish memory; strange feelings are awakened the moment I cross the wooden threshold and look in on the familiar store front, watching Speedwell the hare busily scratching a quill pen against parchment, smelling the herbs and potions and hot wax from a couple of perpetually burning candles.

I have to contemplate. I have to understand. But I don't. So I keep returning.

One night, I found I was not alone there. Neko sat beside a bed in the gloom, crying softly, dismally stroking the paw of a motionless lioness: Idril.

I had only met Idril a couple times before, and I paled when I saw the sweet lioness now devoid of life, her tawny body limp on the white sheets. But I knew Neko well. Idril was his betrothed; he spoke about her with such emotion while she yet lived, and I knew he loved her. And she had fallen beneath a giant's club while fishing on the Shribble.

I wept with Neko, I wept for Neko, I got angry at Wildefriese with Neko, I soothed Neko and urged him not to turn to revenge. I gave him fish to eat, and after awhile he reluctantly picked at them.

When I left that night, I cried harder and began to run south for the Great River and fell sobbing by the muddy bank, and the river carried my tears into the endless seas. Because it was not for Neko that I cried; it was for Eolas.

I saw Eolas there in Neko's place that night, and I in Idril's stead, and I half-wondered what it would do to Eolas's spirit if I were to die... like that. But I half-already knew. It would break him. I loved Eolas too much to see something like that happen to him, and I didn't know what to do to stop it...

But inside I knew. And without knowing it, when I returned to the Council Ring after visiting Neko, I started to slowly but surely push Eolas away, out of my heart and onto his own hooves, forcing him to live on his own, as he was before he met me... so he could survive.

My heart hardened against him. My gushing rivers of love froze over.

We fought. I had not spoken so harshly with him since before the glad days of our courtship. He didn't understand what was wrong with me and thought it was his fault. I didn't understand what I was doing either, but the sudden coldness I felt for him persisted until he dropped to his knees - again - and begged my forgiveness for whatever he had done wrong. I cannot bear that and melted like a lump of butter in the hot July sun. Oh, would that he would not do that! It causes my heart such bitter agonies. My resolve slipped and I relented, and for the next few days I never left his side while wisp-like thoughts traversed slowly like wraiths through the mist of my numb mind.

Was it better to love fervently and lose in death? Or was it better to never know what could have been, and live on after losing one's mate? I laid awake at night, crying beside him while he slept, wrestling with eternal questions of life and death and love. What was the way? What was selfless and perfect? What was best for Eolas?

Were that life were not so complicated! Yet even the wise cannot understand all things. This was another concept beyond my feeble comprehension, for who can answer the questions of love but Aslan himself? Even were he to answer them, we, in our simplemindedness, would likely never grasp the fullness of his truth.

So I wrote a letter. And prayed, and wept, and stared ahead at nothing, grappling with my emotions and a heart that could not bear NOT to love Eolas. I could see no answers... but answers came to me later. That is a long story that will wait for another time.


	12. A Letter to Eolas

This was the letter I wrote to Eolas during those dark days:

My darling husband, Eolas,

Alas, our days were too short, or you would not be reading this now. Yet would we have been happy with anything less than forever? Fortunately, my love, Aslan knows this. Eternity does await us in the golden fields of Aslan's Country.

Do not mourn my passing overmuch, for know that you were my last thoughts, and your name last on my lips. No matter how I died, I know that your heart twined with mine gave me comfort and courage in those waning moments, when twilight fell upon me and my restless spirit winged its way from the bonds of this world into other realms. Would that I could have remained with you but one more day... I cannot tell you how much I wish for just one more day as my sunset falls. Yet my destiny was not mine to control. It never was. I am content with the knowledge that Aslan knows what he's doing, just as he knew what he was doing when he put the two of us together and gave us this delightful love to share, changing both of us forever.

Know that already I miss you. Paradise is not paradise without you. Thus I shall not abide much in the higher realms, but will instead wait for you at Windrose Cave, and in your dreams in the star palace and in other places neither of us can comprehend while dwelling here in Narnia. I will always be with you, shadowing you wherever you go. Find solace too in your music, and again with My Lady, and in the beautiful lands and forests we both enjoyed so much, for a part of me will always abide there, and you will feel it. Do not follow me here before your time, but enjoy what life has been given you by Aslan. Finish your journey, Kindheart.

Please watch over the other creatures for me. Leave roses for Persica the dryad once in a while, because few visit her; and while she is content with her life, she very much appreciates a sign from someone who gives back to her. Heal those who are wounded, feed those who are hungry, give to those who are poor, and spend time with those who are lonely. It makes all the difference when someone can come and share joy and pain with them, just be there to listen, add a word or two of encouragement, and then laugh with them when the storm has passed.

O my sweet one, however did I warrant such a husband as you? Eolas, you are much more to me than a lover and a friend. You are my very heart. Keep close the memories of our time together, of tears and laughter, of songs and sweet words, of dreams, of journeys, of journeys in dreams to palaces among the stars; of sharing, of quiet, of blessed silence; of roses and of thorns and pouches of burnt raisins.

Remember how we met beside a stream, two wounded souls seeking nothing from the other, wary and nervous rather, both expecting rejection and finding rather a soulmate? Remember how we fell in love on the highest peaks of Mount Tor, where white Edelweiss grows among the barren rock on sacred ground, where you pledged your friendship to me and I set my hand in yours as lullabies accompanied us into dreams? Remember how we used to stay up all night, talking about everything, until the sun arose from its slumbers and peered at us in disbelief because we were still awake and getting ready to bid its glorious highness goodnight in the morning? Remember how we searched for things to put in the cave, which we claimed for a time as our own - the deerskin rug, the creel, the many things to cook and eat together? Remember the night when we played My Lady together, and the sweet melodies caused the very wind to fall silent upon the moonlit cliffs in reverent awe? Remember how we came down from the mountain when our sanctuary was intruded upon and finally told each other the things we already knew beside the star-flecked pools of Torspring? Remember how the magic followed us wherever we went? Remember that blessed night when you asked me to be your wife, and we pricked our fingers upon that rose and bound our hearts together? Remember how all of Ettinsmoor conspired to keep us apart before our wedding - that dragon coming and stealing everything we left on the ground, then that giant we met while in search of a frog on our wedding day? It wasn't funny at the time, but I laugh now, because nothing could stand against the power of our love - not even dragons and giants.

How miraculous it is that our love remained on a stratosphere far higher than these earthly things - so high that nothing could touch it! It brought us above the clouds and made us impervious to the lesser happenings below, to the smaller concerns and turmoils around us. We became, in many ways, invincible. Only love mattered, and love, being the very breath of Aslan's realm, cannot be destroyed. What we had from the very beginning was love from Aslan's realm, the rarest and most beautiful kind. Each day, even each passing moment, was more precious than a star to me. In your presence, time and space ceased to matter. The heaviest of troubles fled at the sight of the love in your eyes. You are everything to me - safety, security, hope, strength, faith, and so much more. You will continue to be that to me, forever. A little time and a little space will not separate me from you any more than the minions of Ettinsmoor can. Our love is too great, too powerful, too supernatural for that.

I love you, dearest heart. Aslan forbid that our last words to one another happened to be less than cordial, because I could not have survived without you. I love everything about you. Your songs, your anecdotes, your silly ways, the make-believe you'd play with me at a moment's notice, turning an ordinary forest into an enchanted kingdom and its everyday inhabitants into noble, amusing, beautiful and sometimes mischievous courtiers. Your music and My Lady - of whom I was always a tad jealous, in a laughable sort of way, for I loved her dearly as you did - were, in a way, the catalyst which brought my father back to life, though your music differed from his, as all music differs in the hands of its creator.

Your songs wrapped around me in a cloak of unimaginable warmth. Every word, sung or spoken, in verse or free, planned or spontaneously drawn from the endless well of your heart, I treasured. I love how you sang me into dreams at night, and there aren't words for how I felt to fall asleep in the fortress of your arms. I loved how you weren't afraid to share your - what you considered - fancies with me, about the grand star palace and its young inhabitants, and the great centaur who guarded the gates. I love your eyes, deep as the starry skies. I love your smile, sudden as the sunrise. I love your heart, great as the open seas. I love your laughter, rolling out like rippling waves of windswept grass. I love your waterfall beard, even; and your glorious bushels of shaggy hair, and your noble bearing which has always caused me to consider you a king of the forest, as you were a king of the realms of dreams, of songs, of magic, and of my heart.

Happy was I, the nymph who dwelt there!

I love the way you move - smooth, easy strides, radiating strength and confidence, and imparting the same to me. It was that which stirred my dormant desire to run again. Beyond galloping, your love gave me wings to fly, and we did, together. I even love your dear temper. Praise Aslan for a bit of honest, righteous anger! Narnia and I both thrive on your inner fire, your passion, your devotion to the truth. Your unfathomable kindness, your sweet spirit, and your unfailingly impeccable and gracious manners, as well as your incredible humility, were all such amazing pieces contributing to the mosaic of your inimitable personality. I love every part of you, everything about you, everything that made you who you are. To have been loved by you made me the luckiest creature of all who ever lived, Eolas Windsong. Sharing your name was a privilege to which nothing can compare.

I could go on and on forever, Eolas, my beloved, and I will when we are reunited, I promise you. But this is only a mere missive, written in the hopes that you will not lose hope, or faith, or the will to live. Do not let the love in your heart be poisoned by sadness, but rather, revel in what time we did have, and everything in life we were privileged to share. There will be more, infinitely more, I assure you. What we had in our short time was but a brief taste of what is to come. With that knowledge, wait for me, remember me, and live on.

I love you, dearest husband, precious friend of mine, heart of my heart. I will see you again, soon.

With everything I am,

Violar Wildrose Windsong


	13. To Love, or Not to Love

At last, my will was broken. My spirit could not go on anymore. I cried in Eolas' arms and begged his forgiveness for being so cold to him... for a number of reasons.

The only one I had consciously puzzled out over all those sleepless nights was the coming of my foal. My mother had died giving birth to me, and in many ways, I feared - and still fear - death when the time of my travail draws upon me. I knew that something inside me had changed when Neko's beloved Idril perished, but I did not know what; so I told Eolas of that also.

When the storms and the tears subsided, and all was peaceful and quiet again and we were safe in one another's arms, I gave Eolas my letter - a tiny scroll bound with gold and silver ribbons - and asked him to keep it until something should happen to me. We are all mortal, and death will come for us eventually whether we expect it or not, and I wanted to be prepared. Most of all, I wanted him to be prepared.

"Should I... wait to open the letter?" asked Eolas.

I considered. "Hard to resist, isn't it?" Then I answered, "I don't know. Did you... want to read it?"

Without hesitation, he replied: "Yes, I would like to."

So I reached over him and untied the silver ribbon. "Then read it," I whispered miserably before burying my face deep beneath his beard.

Eolas slowly removed the gold ribbon - his ribbon - and there was a long, dreadful silence while he absorbed its contents. Then I heard the parchment flutter to the ground from his nerveless fingers, and suddenly he burst into tears and buried his face hard against my shoulder, his embrace tightening painfully as he clutched me close to him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The intensity of his powerful emotions was startling, frightening, and overwhelming, and I was caught in the middle of it. I trembled and pleaded for forgiveness, but he would not give it, saying only between sobs: "No... don't be sorry... that was the most beautiful thing I... I don't know what to say. You have no idea... no idea how glad I am that you shared this with me now, instead of waiting for me to find it later... Promise me something: Stop this utter ridiculous nonsense about death, or you're going to kill me!"

In the midst of his turmoil, I shattered. In trying to protect him, I had wounded him terribly. When he got a mere glimpse of the love I withheld from him, he wanted it, and when he received it, he was fulfilled to the point where he was ready to die. All he had been striving for in his life was achieved through me.

_O great fool!_ I berated myself. _O insufferable fool for holding back the one thing he turned his life upside down for and MARRIED you for!_

Truly... it is better to love and lose than never to have loved at all. I urge you to love without fear, for since then, Eolas and I have reached a new level of paradise, and nothing comes between us anymore. Now, now I am truly ready to die, and now I truly live - all because of love.

Eolas said he did not know these things I spoke of in my letter before they were revealed in the light of my love. There are hidden pieces of us all, waiting for the light to come; and if it had come after I was gone and there was none to share it with... oh! The thought was unbearable!

So I grabbed his hand, held my breath, and leaped - off the safe and normal and into the realm of love.

We know the dangers, both of us. We both know how devastating it is to lose one so closely intertwined in one's soul. But we both want love more than anything in life - to give it with the mere hope of receiving it. So I meet him halfway, in that fragile land above ours that might end at any moment; like walking on clouds, not knowing whether they will hold you up. But they do. Eolas does. Each day I step out in faith, he teaches me to trust him because he never fails to support me. And because I love him in return, he can also walk on the clouds and run with the stars.

Faith... Hope... Trust... Love... such incredible mysteries, like the secret of a butterfly. If I showed you the flimsy butterfly's wing, would you believe me when I said it flew? Unless you see it with your own eyes, unless you experience it in your own heart, you cannot begin to grasp the reality of a butterfly's flight. Even now, many do not believe perfection in faith, hope, trust or love exists. Perhaps not "perfection", but what is perfection? Is perfection more variable than rigid? At the moment, I feel I have attained a level of perfection with Eolas, and I see before me a winding staircase that leads ever higher. Watching the growing joy in Eolas' eyes as we climb that infinite staircase together makes my heart want to burst.

What fool does not play in the sun for fear that it will rain on the morrow? That is unimaginable foolishness! Of course the rain will come, of course the night will fall; but while the sun shines, go! Run! Fly! Dance! Love! Pour yourself out in liquid gold! Delight yourself in green grass and blue sky! Otherwise you will never know what you miss, and at the end of your life, when you get a glimpse of what might have been, you will cry - bitterly, because the world would have been a better place for your joy and your reveling in it, and you yourself would not have reached the heights that were so easily within your grasp.

So love without fear until twilight falls, and then rejoice in the memory of those paradisian days.


	14. My Strange World

The world was strange to me when I woke up. Everything was fuzzy, and mostly dark, and I was very cold. A centaur was stirring near me.

"Australis?" I hardly even recognized the sound of my own voice.

Great was his relief when he heard me speak, and he moved quickly to my side. In a short time, he made me understand I had been in a coma for over a month, and that the arrow I had been shot with was indeed poison... but a strange kind of poison that took extraordinarily long to work. Instantly I was worried about two things: Eolas and my baby.

"Australis... do... do you think... the baby... ?"

I saw him bite his lip in the shadows. "I can't feel a pulse," he admitted finally. "But there is a chance it still lives."

He was hiding something from me, even now. I put a hand on his arm. "Australis... am I... dying?"

He set his jaw. "Not as long as I'm looking out for you, I won't let you die. I will find a way to cure you."

Something about his words comforted and warmed me, even though I was still shivering. I looked up at him. "Australis, you've always looked out for me," I said to him. "I'm very grateful."

He leaned down and - I couldn't believe it - he gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. "Eolas will be happy to know you woke up."

Greatly moved, I caught the back of his neck and kissed his cheek in return. "Thank you," I said. When he wasn't jealous, I loved him dearly, I realized.

He patted my hand. "Get some rest."

With that, he gave me some bird soup and departed for the time being, leaving me alone with many thoughts. On one hand I was soothed by the way he spoke of Eolas, but his answer regarding the baby was disturbing.

There was movement in the Sanctuary. My ears pricked and I sat still, listening. "Who... who's there?"

The restless stirring hesitated, then started again. "Violar, is that your voice, or am I still dreaming?"

And then he was at my side, clasping my hands in his. I could have cried; he seemed to have aged a hundred years, and I couldn't remember anything from the past month. Not even dreams.

"Eolas!" I cried. "You're not dreaming, unless I'm the one dreaming..." So shaken was I to see him in such a state that I tried to tease him out of it. "Do you have a rose handy?"

He cantered out to the Council Ring and returned a moment later with a rose, which he pressed into my hand. But I knew it was no dream and did not have to follow through with my implied threat to prick my finger on a thorn to find out, unfortunately. I did anyway and a little dart of pain shivered through me, and I wasn't sure if I was happy about it being waking reality or not.

I looked up at him, mist gathering over my vision. "I'm so sorry I did this to you..."

"No!" he burst out. "No, it was Maeta who did this to you. She will not go unpunished."

My heart clenched. He was in a lot of pain, to be talking like that... my dear pacifist husband, talking about invading the moors to deal a much-deserved blow to my succubus nemesis. "Eolas, don't put yourself in danger," I pleaded. "I couldn't bear it if you died, especially on my behalf. I'd... I'd be miserable."

He explained to me then that he was not planning rashly, but lining out a careful strategy that involved the kings, and a well-organized company of Narnia's finest knights to go against the strongholds of evil. I was mildly placated at that, but still I insisted that he give up these notions of his. We had discussed this before.

His continence faltered. "I was only going to do this if you... if you... if you couldn't recover," he said at the same moment I calmly supplied, "If I died." I was remarkably unafraid of the prospect.

He nodded and went on. "If there's still time, I need to go up to the marshes and ask that wiggle healer's forgiveness. Alas, she was right, but amputating your leg wouldn't have helped."

So that's what he had been doing while I was incapacitated - making peace with the whole world. First Australis, then he was going to go to Sombersigh, and then he would rid civilization of Maeta's claws once and for all...

My heart swelled with love for him, and I put my arms around him and held him close. Being near to him felt better, and I was aching to undo all he suffered in the past month, not knowing if I would live or if I would die. So fervently I sought to comfort him, but he was stiff and didn't respond at first, being hardened to the outside world and, I worried, even to me. My poor husband...

"The foal is probably lost, dear-heart," he said to me then.

I paled and went very still. "Do... do they know for sure?"

He shook his head. "Nobody knows for sure, yet."

I dropped my head and sobbed brokenly. "I can't lose our baby..."

And then it was his turn to comfort me. He said that Aslan would give us another; but I couldn't take it. I was responsible for my baby's entire life, being its sole provider, and if my own body were to poison my child I couldn't deal with it.

Partially because this baby didn't just belong to me. It also belonged to Eolas. I had married him and given him this child, and now I couldn't sustain its little life, and I didn't want to take away one of my most precious gifts to him. I've seen him around young creatures, and how they make him laugh, and I wanted so badly to give him one of his own. And now that chance was slipping away...

But blaming myself aloud was making matters worse. He was growing angrier with Maeta and the faun Calya and even himself. Who knows how far he would have gone if I hadn't accepted his word that it wasn't my fault! He's like that - he hates suffering, especially my suffering, and he will kill anything that causes me unrest. Whatever is the enemy of the beloved becomes the enemy period, and I had to remind myself of that wise proverb and put an end to my rash talk. When I did, he relaxed also, much to my great relief.

Quite by chance, he told me that sunfish oil might be the cure. I brightened. My beautiful rainbow pendant, given to me long ago by my faun friend Calya, contained just that! Eagerly I took a sip of it, but of course there was no change to be noted immediately. But Eolas felt better, knowing that we were one step closer to a cure.

And then I felt exhausted, utterly worn out with news. What had happened to the nice world I had left behind only a month before? I was almost afraid to close my eyes, but I couldn't keep them open. I fell asleep in Eolas' arms.

I woke up again in the middle of the night and found Eolas still holding me, though he too was sound asleep. And I burst into tears and sobbed as if my heart would break.


	15. Gift of Aslan

I had saved a deerskin for our baby, and now I didn't know whether or not I would need it.

I was holding it in my hands, stroking its soft fur and thinking of the little life that might, even now, be struggling to survive in the inhospitable environment my poisoned body provided it when Eolas stirred. Regretfully I laid the deerskin aside and did not speak of it.

Instead I tried to comfort Eolas. He had been at my side like a shadow for the past month, and my fingers traced new lines of worry over his forehead. He was thinner too, but I didn't say anything about it yet. I was telling myself: _Just wait til I get my hands on my cooking pots..._

Part of comforting Eolas meant teasing him about the very things that were deadly serious. I told him that I thought Maeta was a lousy archer, and my smile was not reciprocated. Only after I explained that she clean missed me the first time, and it was my curiosity to go back and inspect the arrow that proved to be my undoing did my jest elicit a small chuckle from him. Finally!

We spoke of many things. He told me smatterings of news from around Narnia. There was a young otter who loves mud, and Eolas nicknamed him Mud Pie. This little creature was apparently found by other Narnians, neglected by a grieving husband who had lost his mate. "Nuncle Oolas", along with several other concerned Narnians, had been going out and taking care of the little fellow for some time. And that helped pull him through when I was in a coma.

I hugged him and looked over his shoulder, not letting him see my expression. Hearing how much he loved baby animals wasn't helping my own grief.

Australis returned. Eolas told me all about how Australis stayed by me constantly, working tirelessly to find a cure for this strange poison, roasting baneberries and forcing me to eat soup in my unconsciousness. It was no wonder those two finally reconciled. I was pleased beyond words to see Australis, and immediately I asked anxiously about my foal.

"I cannot be positive about the baby," he said, looking me straight in the eye. "But Persica has promised to do what she can, if we can get you to her."

Immediately I inquired, "Can you get me to her?"

Australis settled himself before me and calmly asked to have a look at me. I nodded, and he was exceedingly gentle as he looked at my eyes and into my mouth to determine the severity of the lingering poison. I didn't move. I was almost afraid to move. Australis had never treated me like that before.

When he sat back, he was smiling. "I think the poison is gone, but that doesn't mean you should stop with the baneberries, just to be safe."

Baneberries are very dangerous when eaten raw, and true to their name they can kill you. But if roasted properly, baneberries are an equally powerful antidote to poison. And, I soon discovered when Australis produced one, surprisingly delicious.

Next Australis fetched a bucket of colored water, and settling himself near me he began to clean the wound in my horse shoulder while he and Eolas discussed my condition at length. I said nothing, only watched Australis soberly and silently marveled. He had changed drastically, and the new centaur bearing the name Australis was one I felt very warm towards.

When he finished, he quietly slipped away to give Eolas and me our time alone. Eolas fed me a peach and told me more about his little otter friend named Mud Pie. But as time went on, Eolas realized without my saying anything what was troubling me.

"You mustn't worry about the foal, dear-heart. It... it might be alright for some reason. If... if not, well, we'll see it in Aslan's Country, surely."

My throat constricted. He wasn't helping.

A few moments later, Eolas went out to get something to eat and pressed something fresh and dewy into my hand. I held it up to the light, but a thorn catching my sensitive fingertip brought recognition faster than sight did. "A rose," I breathed.

And the next thing I knew, he had softened, and he was almost like the Eolas I remembered. He was tender, and kind; and I thought perhaps it was because he knew I wasn't going to die. We bantered a little about our hot tempers, and he called me, to my great joy, his "little battle axe"; because he told me he was ashamed for being so angry with the Marsh Wiggle and I answered boldly that I would have killed her outright were I in his place. (I truly do believe he has remarkable self-control.) Then suddenly I lifted my gaze to his, steady and unafraid.

"Eolas, no matter what happens, I love you. Even if you went out and raided Maeta's stronghold, I would get after you for it, but it wouldn't change the way I feel about you."

Eolas gave me one of his melting smiles and enfolded my hands between his. "I don't think you can honestly tell me that, if I were to die by someone's hand, you wouldn't even briefly consider going after that person yourself to seek revenge."

"I would," I replied instantly. I was proud of it.

His warm laughter was a wonderful gift.

I wanted to give him my sunfish oil pendant to carry with him, but he wouldn't take it, or the 15,000 coins I tried to press on him. He said he had enough money of his own, and what if I needed the sunfish oil?

"I wish there was some token of me that I could give you," I lamented.

He didn't answer. Instead, he took my hand in his and placed it over his wrist, and I felt the familiar rough and tightly-braided horsehair bracelet I had made him long ago.

I lifted his wrist and kissed it, bracelet and all. "I'd... forgotten. I suppose one forgets things when hibernating."

His warm chuckling surrounded me. "Indeed. But while wearing this, I feel like part of you is with me, even when I'm alone."

The more I'm with him, the more reasons I discover to love him. Eolas is just like that. He took care of our harps, Minx and Vixen, while I slept on, and he saw the way Australis looked at them, so Eolas made him one. I couldn't believe it. The generosity of Eolas knows no bounds. He went out to the Council Ring to give it to the lucky Australis, but before long he came flying back.

"Love, there is a dryad outside the Ring."

I perked up instantly. "My baby! She can look and see...!" And then I was suddenly scared.

Eolas came to me and offered what comfort he could. "I almost don't want to know," I confessed.

He gentled further. "I know exactly how you feel."

The next thing I knew, Australis was there too, and suspended between the two of them, I stumbled unwillingly out of the dark sanctuary and into the Council Ring. The sunlight hurt my eyes, and I winced under the pain of it, and the pain of what was to come. There was a dryad in the ring, and she was both striking and beautiful, wearing a crimson dress that set her off against her own blackberry bushes. She glided straight over to me and set her hands against my side, and I guessed Australis had told her everything already.

I shuddered and leaned hard against Eolas as a wave of warmth washed through my body. The dryad said nothing, but I risked a glance at her and saw Alle frowning. That was a bad sign, I decided, just before another, warmer, wave gushed into me. Still she spoke no word, and I was beginning to feel very frightened. Suddenly pure heat stabbed through me, and I cried out. Alle collapsed exhausted on the ground, and Australis went to tend her while I wound both arms around Eolas. Through a fog I heard Australis asking her if she was alright, but there was no answer. Eolas held me as I burst into tears and shut out the world.

Then soft words were piercing through my self-imposed oblivion: "The foal lives." I let out another sharp cry as the poor, weakened dryad went on: "It is very weak, but I gave her what grace and life are mine to give."

Her. I was carrying a little girl...

My senses reeled. I don't remember what else happened. There was more talk swirling around me, and then the familiar warm strength of Eolas was around me, and dark closed over my eyes. He had taken me back to the Sanctuary, and everything in me was crying out with Eolas' soft whisper: Sleep, love. Just sleep.

With a moan I gave in to him, and I dropped into the comfort of unconsciousness.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up again and found myself wrapped deep in the arms of Eolas. Tears peeked from the corners of my eyes as I cast my gaze heavenward.

"Thank you," I whispered.


	16. In Dreams

I woke up to find... nothingness. The world was black and empty, like a great abyss devoid of existence. Fears arose in my mind: Was I dead?

But then, I heard a song. With it came comfort, and hope, and life where there was none before. And suddenly I felt the singer draw close, and how I wished for light to see him! Fragrant breath fell upon me soft as a warm spring breeze, and it brought me back to life.

Suddenly the sky was alight with dazzling stars, and as I watched more of them flickered into being before my eyes: Planets and constellations catching fire and spreading through the skies until they were beyond number, and still they kept coming. Enchanted, delighted, I watched the universe grow right in front of me, expanding and rushing in every direction, and I was somehow at the center of it all - a spectator, but to what? I was too awed to wonder!

Then the melody changed. It grew deeper, more magnificent; and then the sky turned navy blue near what now appeared to be the horizon. And into this virgin sky rose soft magenta, and then red-gold wildfire, and before I knew it, I saw the sun. Not just any sun: The first sun.

Joy burst over me at the coming of the sunrise, and I turned then to behold the Singer, and there he was: Standing, beautiful and majestic, watching me with his ageless eyes: Aslan himself. I trembled, frightened and yet exhilarated, until he spoke to me.

"Welcome, dear daughter." Too moved to say anything, I bowed deeply, and he dipped his wonderful head in response. "And what do you think of my new world, Violar?"

My heart was leaping. "Aslan, everything you make is so beautiful that I cannot find words for it," I responded from the overflowing depths of my soul. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Inwardly I was whirling with sheer delight. He had brought me to the Dawn of Time, to the Morning of the World, to the Beginning of All Things! I had seen, with my own eyes, the First Sunrise!

"I have brought you here because I have heard your friends crying out to me, to help you overcome the poison that flows through your body."

Dear Aslan! I could hardly believe any of this. For a moment longer I clung to my inherent nobility and expressed my honor to be in that place with him, but then I was reduced, very swiftly, to pleading. "You gave me my baby back through the dryad Alle. That's all I want, Aslan... I just want my baby to be alright."

Somehow I knew, before he said anything, that he understood my pain; for I was standing on the very birth of the world, and Aslan knew what it was like to have children because of it. And he knew what it was like to lose them. He stepped closer and breathed on me, and fear had no more hold over me.

"I have also heard your pleas, dearest Violar. Worry not, for your child will be fine, as you will be."

A single tear found its freedom before I thanked him, and then he turned from me and went out into the brand new world, and amongst the plain we were standing on, he bid me come sit beside him and rest my hand in his mane. And I did, and we watched as the song breathed into life the beginnings of everything dear and familiar, and I found myself pouring out my heart to him as the world swelled with life and pulsed in its eagerness to become something more, something great.

"How long does it take?" A foolish question, perhaps, but I could no longer stay my curiosity.

Aslan uttered the softest and most pleasant of chuckles amid the deep rumbles of his purring. "Dear one, it takes until the end of time to be complete. For every new tree that will grow from a seedling, to every child that will be born to a mother and father is a continuation of what has begun here moments ago." (Had it been only moments? I was wondering to myself; it seemed eternal, as if time did not matter.) "There is no end to the creation until time itself ceases."

Warmth filled my being, and I reached down to stroke my black side, sheltering the little life I kept safely hidden from the world. My foal was to become a part of all this someday!

We spoke then, very quietly, of many things: Of life and love, and children; of fate, and struggle, and triumph; and these words I treasured especially: "What you have, I wish for all my children to have, dearest Violar. Yours is a good life. And you must always remember this, in good times and in bad."

And then, of all things, Aslan bid me to tell him more about Eolas!

As always, thinking of Eolas unleashed a torrent inside me, and this I shared with Aslan. Looking back, I think that is what Aslan wanted, and I felt he asked of Eolas more for my benefit than his. O kind lion! I laid my head against the sea of silky golden mane, and closed my eyes as the sun drew higher in the skies, and I spoke of love, and change, and second chances, and redemption.

And before us bloomed a beautiful solitary rose. Wind washed over us, and our hair billowed and danced like gold and black fire; and then he bid me pluck the rose, as it was his gift to me. I did, and I held it close and gazed at it, and then I looked into his eyes. "Thank you," was all I could say. And it was enough.

Everything felt so natural when the first saplings of trees arrived, bringing the familiar scents of pine, and bark, and the forest; yet everything was growing at an unbelievable rate, stretching eagerly upwards and branching out towards the noonday sun. Aslan may have been able to handle all this burgeoning life, but I could not; I felt as exhausted as if I had endured many labors, and I fell asleep against his wonderful mane, whispering: "Let me come back... again... I want to see the mountains come."

I felt, rather than saw, him smile. Then he was singing, and instead of the song of the universe, he was singing... a lullaby. To me. Sending me into that warm, welcoming sleep until I awakened in a place far, far away...

In my own time. In my own place in the world. I opened my eyes but did not move, having not the strength or the will to move. I felt filled up, but warm and lethargic, and almost, in a way, as if my life were already complete. I was here, in Narnia again, in the familiar sanctuary in the Council Ring, and Eolas was sleeping peacefully at my side, and life was stirring within me. Life was as it should have been: Utterly perfect.

What a delightful dream, I thought to myself, twitching my fingers for the first time. Abruptly I looked down and saw that I was holding... a rose.


	17. The Tapestry of Time

Something strange was in the air last night when I found myself on a hillside overlooking the Stone Table. The unbroken Stone Table. Aslan himself was sitting, facing away from me, and I couldn't decipher his mood.

Hesitantly, I approached him and softly spoke his name. Without acknowledging my presence overmuch, he bid me sit beside him, and his tail gave an agitated flip. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, so many things I wanted to say! But I held myself back and buried my hand in his golden mane, and after awhile I ventured foolishly, "I love your world, Aslan."

Making no effort to either comfort me or cause me to fear him, Aslan asked, "What is it you love most about my world, dear daughter?"

I had to think about that. "If I had to choose one element, I would say Love," I responded. "The world is beautiful: A wonderful backdrop for the drama of life to take place against, and the myriad journeys, all leading to the same destination:Love in all its forms."

A smile formed on Aslan's muzzle, and he purred at me. "Wise words, dear child."

I had to ask him. "What do you love most about your world, Aslan?"

"To pinpoint just one aspect above the others would be unfair to the rest, dear one," he answered. I would have expected as much. "I love all my children, as I love the blades of grass beneath us, or the stars in the sky."

I warmed towards Aslan, then chuckled somewhat ruefully. "I often feel unfair to your world," I admitted. "There are parts of it I like more than others. Though Eolas likes spiders more than I do, so at least we balance out where arachnids are concerned." Then I wondered. "How do you love everything, Aslan?"

His chuckle was deep and heartwarming. "Ah, but have you stopped to truly admire the skills of a spider?" And he went on to tell me of how they weave their lovely webs, and suddenly I remembered that my father used to call them Dreamspinners; and that when I was a foal I would stand transfixed for hours, watching the spiders perform their delicate dances and how, at dawn, drops of dew would glisten on the silken strands of their finished creations, shining like morning stars. "It is not something that comes easily to anyone, dear child," Aslan was saying. "For there will always be fear, and fear is powerful enough to push even love away. To love everything as I do, one must set fear aside and see not the bad qualities in things, but the good ones."

By the time Aslan lifted his paw and showed me the spider sitting happily there, I stiffened out of long habit, but I was unafraid, and I had a glimpse of what it was like to love all things.

"I judge too quickly," I remarked ruefully as Aslan lowered his velveteen paw and let the spider stumble off through the forest of tall grass. I was thinking of Australis, and I told Aslan so. "I often wonder what life would be like if Eolas hadn't come along, Aslan. I love him, so very much, but it hurts to see Australis unhappy. I would have been Australis' lifemate if Eolas had never come, you know." I sighed. "I'm grateful you let me go through this poisoning, just to force the two of them to work together, but it's still so awkward. I wish... I wish I knew what to do."

It was all awkward and didn't convey at all what I wanted to say, and Aslan's beautiful smile diminished. He swung his large head around to gaze upon me. "To consider what could have been can be just as dangerous as it is relieving, Violar. You have a good life with a good husband and you must focus on keeping it so. That is your path." Wind was billowing through his golden mane, rippling it like wheat on fire. "It was not destined for you and my dear son Australis to be together. But worry not for him. He is not forgotten." Without elaborating, Aslan turned his gaze out upon the horizon.

Shaken by his demeanor and yet relieved by his words, as if Aslan had forcibly removed from me the responsibility I carried in my heart for Australis, I tried to explain myself. "I do not regret my decision in the least," I offered. "I love Eolas more than anything, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is the centaur you created for me. And I'm glad you haven't forgotten Australis. It is only hard to be the... the cause of his pain." My eyes were drawn to the Stone Table, newly hewn and unbroken in the morning of the world, and a deeper brooding drew over me like a falling cloak. Memories of what was to come and had already been in my time came to me. "Then again, all of us were the cause of your pain."

"You cannot fault yourself for following your destiny, dear one. No one can." Statuesque, he seemed to be waiting for something, but I did not know what, and the quiet stretched between us as he also gazed at the Stone Table. "I would die a thousand deaths for my children," he added softly. Rising to his paws, he gave his mighty form a great shake and padded towards the eerily peaceful Stone Table.

Uncertainly, I stood up also and followed him. In the dreamworld, my strength was renewed, and I moved almost like a cat myself in his wake; muscles gliding easily beneath my black coat. Aslan paced alongside the engraved stone slab until he stood in front of it, the vastness of Narnia only a backdrop to this place that would one day be the site of the greatest salvation our land had ever known. It was a little frightening to consider, and I ran my hand over the smooth, cold surface of the Stone Table.

"What is it like, to know that love will kill you?"

The first rays of the young sun illuminated Aslan's noble features as he faced me. "That, dear child, is a question for another time," he uttered in a softened purr, and I felt gravitational forces closing in around me as the purr strengthened, filling all my senses in a lulling, timeless rhythm. My eyes grew heavy, and I blinked languidly, and though I strained with all my might to resist its inexorable pull, I knew I was leaving. I was deeply upset by it.

"Please let me come back soon," I pleaded, and almost I could feel Eolas beside me again as my own time drew me back to itself. There was nothing I could do but give in. I looked up at the great Lion before me, still purring, still glorious and beautiful and majestic and terrible, and behind him the sun burst into the sky over the fateful Stone Table with all the joy and exuberance of the young world.

"Goodbye... and thank you... dear Aslan." Buckling my weary knees, I collapsed at his feet and awoke, finding Eolas sleeping peacefully with his arms around me.

Without moving, I rolled my eyes and looked around at the familiar Sanctuary, absorbing its comforting darkness and the smells of centaurs, dust, and the stored treasures in the back of our guild. I had gone through them on occasion and found things that were from centaurs who had passed on among the newer belongings for centaurs I knew. My own stuff was mingled in. It was, in its own way, a legacy: Adding my few pieces to the collection made me a part of it, a part of the herd, a part of the world and the circle of life to which I belonged.

I was woven within this timeless tapestry that was Life, and Love, and journeys and destinations beyond my understanding, creating a picture that would not be completed until Time had, at last, come to an end. And once that tapestry was complete, who was to say what Aslan would do next?

Delighted and content beyond words, I pulled Eolas closer, and in his sleep he tightened his embrace around me. I smiled. Once upon a time, I wished I were a great centaur, able to leave an indelible mark on the history of Narnia; but I had discovered, in the universal realm to which Aslan took me, that the world was a greater thing than I could adequately comprehend. I was but one player in a huge drama, a single star amongst the host. But I was graced with the privilege of being a star, and joining that choir. That made me great in my own small, humble way.

And somehow, amidst the chaos and the many schemes winding around us, Eolas and I had found each other. There is no greater fate I can imagine for myself than being loved by him.

I cannot say I am the most blessed centaur that ever lived, and yet, at the same time, I am.


	18. Putting Eolas Back Together

For a month of endless days and nights, Eolas was at my side, restless, sleepless; pale and cold with fear as he held my hand and silently pleaded with Aslan for my life. He worried that at any moment he was going to lose me without even having a chance to say goodbye.

Now that he knows I'm going to be alright, he remains at my side... sleeping. Soundly. And now I'm the one who misses him, because I won't dare wake him - not when I can so easily see how much he desperately needs sleep and is finally able to get it.

Now I miss him almost as much as he missed me, except that I know he isn't in immediate danger. While he slumbers peacefully, I stroke his hair, and watch over him, and cry for his broken heart, and beg Aslan to lay a balm against it.

"It's my own fault that it hurts me," Eolas said when he was awake for a little while, after I confided to him how upsetting his obvious heartache was to me. "I don't think I've been living these last few weeks. I've just been... existing. I guess that makes me codependent, but I can't help it. I love you so much that life just isn't the same unless you're always in it."

The trouble is, I feel the same way. There would be something wrong if I didn't hurt when he was away, and vice versa. So is this codependency, or love?

I daresay it's love of the very best sort.

We talk about a great many things when he's awake, which is a much smaller percentage of time compared to when I'm awake. There is so much to discuss: Da'ean and Borealis seem to have patched their relationship up and are very possibly in love; Guinevere has been made court healer by the Kings (to which I exclaimed, "Have they all lost their minds?!" and made Eolas laugh heartily); Odell, the otter Eolas affectionately calls Mud Pie, is doing wonderfully in the midst of his adoptive Narnian "aunts" and "uncles"; and possible matchmaking for Australis which admittedly isn't going well. Closer to home, we talk about the baby, and we're still in the process of naming her.

I'm ashamed of myself for it, but I got angry with Skyfallow. The Sanctuary is for all the centaurs, but in my weakened condition, I can't walk out of there and have a discussion with Eolas at will. It's hard. I feel like Eolas and I are tremendously busy with each other and that it's critical that we catch up on things, and I am neither hospitable nor welcoming to intrusions and interruptions. Since Skyfallow was one of the most recent centaurs to fall under that category, my respect for her has plummeted yet again. I have not entirely forgiven her for the mess of things she made between Australis and me, however unwittingly; and I feel a great deal of embarrassment for my thoughts where Skyfallow is concerned. But that doesn't change the fact that those feelings are there.

At some point, Eolas and I always clear away the peripheral issues and focus on healing each other again.

Then he falls asleep with his arms around me and his gloriously shaggy head pillowed on my shoulder. It amazes me to no end that such a strong creature as Eolas can be so vulnerable to me, and all soft as marshmallows on the inside. I love him all the more for it. His love and trust are such a gift to me, and that he allows me to see him at his weakest is somehow gratifying in a way I don't wholly understand. Eolas is not afraid to cry when I am with him, or tell me what might be considered scandalous or even silly. His lack of fear around me is startling; I can't believe I would inspire such utter confidence and honesty in the safety of my heart.

Sometimes, he is nothing more than a beautiful little boy.

It makes me want to shed tears. Often, I do. In the warm comfort of Eolas' arms, I kiss the lines from his noble forehead and work my fingers through the tangles in his thick autumn-brown hair, and my tears are lost amidst his soft waterfall of a beard. He doesn't know how I cry for him, and I doubt he can grasp how I struggle daily to figure out how to undo the damage caused by my poison-induced coma.

I hurt because he hurts. I'm working on putting him back together, one piece at a time; because in doing so, I'm putting myself back together.


	19. Mud Pie

I have been getting... well, fat. It's not my fault, entirely. I don't really mind it either, since I shelter a new young life in my gently swelling equine midsection - a young life that Aslan created between Eolas and me.

There's something unspeakably special about that.

So, for the time being, I don't mind that my condition hinders my mobility and hampers my freedom, except that Eolas and I don't travel all over Narnia as we used to in the early stages of my pregnancy. Now he takes his trips alone, and I remain in the vicinity of the Council Ring. I have grown... I hate to say it. I've grown somewhat lazy. I sleep a lot. But oh! My little one is full of energy and she keeps me up nights, hammering away at me with her tiny hooves. But it fills me with such a warm sense of pride, to know that inside of me there is a miniature centaur, growing and developing and thriving. I can't wait to see her.

She's beautiful. I see her sometimes in my dreams, and that's when I get to hold her in my arms, to sing to her outside the haven of my body, to brush the hair back from her face. What a bundle of sweetness she is. I love her, so much.

Eolas departed to gather supplies from Sted Cair, and during those few days, I missed him. So I wrote him a note. I do that occasionally, taking a small sheet of parchment and decorating the border with charcoal drawings of vines and roses, then staining them with grass and berry juice. They turn out quite pretty when I finish. Then I take my quill and ink and give my heart some verbal form in flowing letters. The missives are lovely, but they're mere shadows - as inferior to what I really feel for Eolas as the two-dimensional drawings of vines and roses beside the genuine articles.

But Eolas loves them, and that's what counts. So I wrote a note and sent it via a friendly messenger bird to Sted Cair, to keep Eolas from feeling as lonely as me.

Tonight, though, we were together. I woke up shortly before he did. When he stirred, I threw my arms around him in the dark.

"Gotcha!"

He laughed, pleasantly surprised, and took me in his arms. "Good, because I miss being held by you."

I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "As I miss holding you, love."

He liked that. He took me by the hand and led me into the Council Ring, under the stars, and there we shared a supper while I told him about our baby's rambunctious impatience to see the world. After a light snack of cherries and blackberries, Eolas took me outside the Ring for a walk by the river.

Suddenly I stood up taller and flashed him a brilliant smile. "Do I look fat?"

That caught him off guard, but he smiled. "You, fat? Never. Just... prettily plump."

I put on my cockiest swagger and sashayed proudly around him, watching him through haughtily lowered eyelids and grinning coyly. Eolas was very amused, and he caught me by the shoulders to guide me beyond the blackberry hedge. I dropped my teasing for the time being and settled into stride beside him.

The world, in turn, settled into stride with _us_. The rhythm of the night wind through the leaves and the gentle waving of cattails and rushes before us melded perfectly with the muffled clopping of our hooves over the grassy turf. When I'm with Eolas, it's as if time itself has been fulfilled, somehow, and we've both reached the end. Eolas and I are growing old together. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be.

Down by the river we walked as we spoke quietly of minor happenings. I mentioned my own dismay that Lady Da'ean, my childhood friend whom I used to call Stormy, has become Council Leader - and is now only Lady Da'ean to me. There is a coldness between us, a formality, that did not before exist. Now she never calls me Rosie. I am Violar to her. She treats me differently, too - chastising me if she feels I have spoken an unwise word, though she knows me well enough to understand perfectly what I meant and in what context I said it. I feel as if I have lost a very dear friend, and it hurts.

But I didn't want to spoil this night with Eolas by speaking of things that are beyond control. I have a friend now - my best friend, my husband: Eolas. If all the world were to vanish in a puff of smoke, I would be alright - as long as I had him. So I changed the subject to the goodness of ripe autumn blackberries, and we walked on.

But I shifted too forcefully, and of course Eolas caught on.

"I know this much," Eolas said, sensing my mood. "If I were ever Council Leader - not that I ever will be or want to be - I wouldn't give a hang for pride or protocol, and I'd call someone Rosie or Stormy if it suited me." He paused. "Which is why I'd make a very bad Council Leader."

We laughed. I flushed and looked up at him with admiration. "I hope you never change, Eolas."

"Really? Well, your hope is likely to be fulfilled, because I rather like me the way I am, and I don't plan on changing."

I smiled and turned to face him, putting my arms over his shoulders and burying my fingers deep in his gloriously shaggy hair. "You aren't the only one who likes it."

His brown eyes were taking on that gentle warmth that was becoming as familiar to me as my own soul. "You changed me, Violar, and now I'm a better centaur. I want it to stay that way."

My own smile faded to tenderness, and I gave him a soft kiss. "You've done the same for me... I, too, am a better centaur. I look at my old life and see the shadow of a stranger masquerading as myself."

Predictably, he said the same was true of his old life compared to the way he is now. Predictable or not, I love it as much as I love the sunrise, though I've seen the sun take to the skies every morning I can remember. I find it miraculous beyond words that we never tire of the transformation that has taken place inside each of us. It's too precious a thing for either of us to ever take for granted, and we'll never forget who was responsible for the gift of a fresh start.

That's why I married him.

"I know I have my faults, but we all do," Eolas was saying.

This was my favorite part of the conversation. Smiling, I took his arm as we continued down the hoofbeaten path beside the silver moonlit waters.

"I have to admit none of them bother me too much," I replied. "I find some of them wonderfully endearing."

Eolas snorted with laughter. "Really?"

I smiled at him. "Yes."

He was still laughing, somewhat incredulous. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, but I do know I have a temper, and I'm trying to curb it. But usually if I get mad, it's because someone's hurting you."

I reached over and gently tickled his beard. "Your temper is adorable."

"Not to those who have to suffer because of it," he answered immediately.

He's still unhappy about the incident with Sombersigh. I strove again to assure him he'd done the right thing... in a way. I don't like it that a Marsh Wiggle caught the brunt of his anger, but... I needed it, desperately. It's hard to explain, which is why, months later, I'm still trying to convince Eolas that I'm telling the truth, and that his anger was a lifeline for me at the time. "I was so frightened I could hardly breathe," I explained, "and it was a calming influence to have you wrap me in your arms and go lion on anyone who tried to get near me."

He laughed at my unusual choice of words, but I was serious. I thought that Marsh Wiggle was going to cut off my leg, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. I was terrified and helpless in her power, if she made up her mind it was the best thing to do - never mind the wishes of the patient. I needed Eolas to be my protector then, and he rose to the challenge valiantly, and he got me out of that dreadful apothecary sooner than any healer would have let me go. In my eyes, he did the right thing. Were our roles reversed and it was I who found myself protecting Eolas, I wouldn't have possessed the same kind humility necessary to forgive the Marsh Wiggle after the incident was over. My fury at the thought of anyone hurting Eolas is unparalleled. Whoever tries it is gonna catch it. Bad.

Right then, we came upon a young otter paddling about in the water at the base of the falls, darting up and down happily. I tugged Eolas' hand and went to the very edge of the riverbank to get a closer look. "Having fun?" I called.

The little otter looked up at us and grinned widely, then scrambled up onto a rock and barked at us. "Yes... Odell is having fun. Uncle Eolas, I have not seen you in ages, Odell has missed you."

I gasped in delighted surprise. "Oh my goodness. Mud Pie?" I guessed.

The little fellow turned his oily-furred head towards me. "Odell isa Mud Pie yis... are you Aunt Violar? Odell has not seen you before." He wagged his tail hard.

I smiled, completely enchanted. What a darling!

Eolas chuckled and stepped up. "Indeed. Let me introduce the intrepid master of the water to you. Violar, this is Odell, otherwise known as Mud Pie, or Kitling; Kitling, this is my wife, the lovely Violar."

Warmth washed through me. I'll never tire of hearing him say that.

"A delight to make your acquaintance at last, Intrepid Master of the Water."

Odell giggled and hopped off the rock, disappearing into the foaming water. A moment later he popped up and crawled over the rocks until he hauled his small roly-poly body onto the riverbank, and he went slinking around first Eolas' forelegs, then mine, sharing his wet fur with us. "Odell is happy to see you both, Odell has wanted to see you forever Aunt Violar. Uncle told me all about you and helped look after me lots too."

I was completely charmed. I didn't shrink away at having my fur soaked through; the cool water felt good actually, so I stiffened my forelegs and pressed against him affectionately, swishing my tail. Young creatures always make me feel somewhat carefree, and after awhile I found myself sitting on the riverbank in centaur-fashion, chatting amiably with the bright-eyed, eager-spirited little otter.

Odell is the son of another otter, whose name I can't recall, who recently lost his beloved wife - and the mother of Odell - to the minions of Ettinsmoor. The father has consequently been disconsolate. He never leaves the burrow and can hardly be persuaded to take care of himself, let alone his adorable son Odell. So the whole of Narnia adopted Odell... or I should say Odell adopted the whole of Narnia. He stole their hearts. He calls them Aunts and Uncles, no matter which race they belong to, and he has been a joy to raise. He has an entire group of Aunts and Uncles: Dwarfs, fauns, and of course centaurs; as well as other members of the otter community. While I was in my poison-induced coma, Eolas became one of those Uncles, and Eolas feels he owes a great deal to the little fellow: "It was Odell who saved me from becoming a complete basket case when you were ill, Violar," Eolas said to me. "He brought me out of myself, and gave me hope."

Thus Odell has earned my eternal gratitude.

Abruptly Odell giggled and took off, bouncing around before me and undulating over the grass until he slid down the muddy riverbank, rolling over to coat his fur in mud. "Odell isa mud pie Aunt... see."

I leaned forward, my eyes wide. "I DO see!" I exclaimed. "And all this time I thought you were an otter."

He scrambled upright, gooey mud dripping from him. "No no Odell isa mud pie... sees." He scampered in a circle, barking joyously.

Then we persuaded Eolas to let Odell sing "the Dwarf song". Both of us had to ask Eolas for special permission, because: "Aunt Niffum liked it, she laughed really hard but for some reason... saying that Dwarfs is nice upsets them," Odell informed me.

Eolas granted our request. The song went like this, in between a lot of otterish skipping and barking:

_Oh I know some Dwarfs,_

_Lots and lots of Dwarfs,_

_They are grumpy and short,_

_Smiths without compare._

_But there is a secret about them,_

_Not many know,_

_And that secret is,_

_They are all sweeties insides._

_They act all tough_

_And drink lots of ale,_

_I cannot say why,_

_As it tastes like muck._

_But there is that secret truth,_

_Oh if only you knew,_

_They are sweeties inside._

_Dwarfs cannot help being nice_

_Even when they are grumpy,_

_They are steadfast and true,_

_Practical and firm,_

_But even when they are being stern,_

_They are nice,_

_Because they are all sweeties inside._

He slid to a halt before me, barking loudly, and nuzzled against my stomach. I twitched a hind hoof, laughing. That tickled. I swished my tail over him affectionately. "Yes they are, Kitling. How very observant of you!" I leaned close, my eyes gleaming. "And," I added conspiratorially, "ale tastes positively horrid." I glanced up at Eolas and threw him a wink.

Eolas chuckled and shifted hooves. "Think of ale what you will, but I still like a wee nip once in a while."

I reached over and rubbed my hand up and down over his knee. "So do I, and you know it."

That's when he looked down and caught the mischief lurking in my eyes. He laughed. I grinned up at him.

Odell was stuck in his own little world, batting at my tail with his tiny little paws. Then he bounded around to sit in front of us. "Odell likes his Dwarf song," he declared, completely unabashed about it.

"So do I," I answered. Then I was curious. "Have you written any songs about centaurs?"

Odell barked. "Not yet... but Odell has an idea yis... isa about well you will hear it when Odell finishes it."

I laughed. I loved hearing him talk.

"We will await that day with bated breath," Eolas intoned, looking down at us.

Odell wriggled with delight. He nuzzled up against his enormous Uncle, then reared up onto his hind legs and held out his paws. "Can Odell have a hug?" he asked plaintively.

I wanted to explode with laughter and joy all at the same time when Eolas immediately scooped the irresistible otter into his arms and hugged him tightly. "You're getting too big for this, but do you want to play the flying game while I'm here?"

Odell nuzzled happily and hugged Eolas with little paws. "Odell may be growing up Uncle but he is still tiny compared to you." Then he nodded eagerly.

"Alright," said Eolas. "Hold on to your hat!"

"Odell not got a hat... no one wills get him one."

Eolas' laughter rippled over the still night. "I don't mean a real hat." Deftly my husband tossed Odell into the air and caught him in his arms while the otter squeaked and barked on the way down.

"Again," said Odell.

Eolas pretended to look dour. "Oh, I don't know about that. You cause me enough trouble as it is. I think I'll just... throw the bothersome otter away." So saying, he grinned and tossed Odell, and Odell squirmed in midair before landing safely in Eolas' arms again.

I was in fits of laughter, watching them. I put a hand over my face. "So this is the flying game?"

Eolas affirmed that, smiling. Odell barked and laughed exuberantly like any otter baby would. "Fun... Odell loves to fly."

"So do I," said I, climbing to my hooves.

Eolas looked over at me, then set Odell on the ground and came beside me, grasping me around the waist. "As plump with foal as you may be, my love, I can still carry you. You're not too big to fly."

I turned to him and communicated exactly what I thought of that statement with a warm look in my eyes, and I brushed my hand gently over his cheek. Oh, how I love him. There was so much I wanted to say to him in that moment, but it would have to wait.

Smiling at Mud Pie, who was capering around in the grass again, I said, "Little Kitling is a lucky otter pie."

Odell barked and smiled. "He is... Odell likes his Aunts and Uncles."

That hit me right in the heart, and my eyes glistened. "Your Aunts and Uncles like you, Kitling."

He giggled at that and squirmed happily, then held out his paws to me. "Does Odell get a hug from Aunt Violar too?"

"I was hoping you'd ask me," was my instant response as I leaned down and swooped him into my arms, hugging him close and getting mud all over me.

Odell giggled and snuggled up, then nuzzled against my neck with an otter bark. "Isa warm being hugged."

Cuddling him, I rested my head against his furry one. "It's the most wonderful thing in the world, little one... being hugged." I tweaked at his whiskers affectionately. "Mud is a pretty close second, isn't it?"

"Oh yis mud and then fishes."

I gave that some serious thought. "Hugs, mud and fishes: The very necessities of life."

Eolas burst into hearty laughter. Odell prattled on about anything and everything that crossed his agile little mind: Hugs, mud and fishes, of course; and Aunts and Uncles, and when my baby was going to be born, and if he was going to be able to see it or if "they" (being the other centaurs, I presume) would keep it in "your Ring place", and then he decided "Odell shoulds think about back home going yis." We escorted him home while he chattered happily with Eolas, but I was getting too emotional to participate in the conversation anymore. I realized I had been stroking my own side for quite some time when we arrived at Odell's house and wished him goodnight. The little fellow squeezed inside his burrow and was gone.

At last I turned to Eolas.

Eolas had a wistful smile on his face, and his brown eyes were soft. "He's the cutest little fellow I've ever met."

I suddenly hugged my husband, hiding my face behind his waterfall of a beard. "He's darling. And... and so are you..."

I felt his arms come around me in a secure embrace, and he chuckled a little. "I'm just me."

I pulled my face out of hiding and put a finger to his cheek, tracing a line and leaving a smudge of mud. "You are just you, and you did give me wings so I can fly. I would love to play the flying game." Smiling softly, I went on. "Our foal is going to be so lucky, to have a father like you."

"If you keep flattering me, Violar, my head is going to swell to the size of a pumpkin," returned Eolas, but his voice was tender. So was his gaze. He gently tweaked at my ear.

I tapped a finger against the tip of his nose. "Then it will be my job to kiss it back down to size."

"That'll be more likely to make it explode out of sheer ecstasy."

"Then I'll have to put you back together again." We laughed, and I put a muddy hand to Eolas' cheek. "I love you, Eolas."

He was melting. "I love you too, more than I can express," he said earnestly.

Then I took that risk. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.


	20. The Flying Game

I'm so used to waking up and spending time alone under the evening sky that when I emerged from the Sanctuary, sleepy-eyed and stretching, I almost stumbled sideways when I found Eolas in the shadows, waiting for me.

I smiled. "Hi."

Without warning he came forward and enveloped me in a huge - and very cold and wet - hug. I gasped and it was all I could do to resist pulling away from him.

Eolas chuckled deep in his throat. "Good evening, my love. I'm sorry, I'm a little wet."

I could see that. It was too easy to guess where he'd been: Down at the river, playing with Odell in an undignified manner that would have horrified the centaurs of the Council Ring, if they only knew. Laughing, I hugged him tighter. "I'm only too happy to be your towel."

So began an evening of banter and warm recollections between the two of us. What amazes me the most is how our thought processes match, and our mood shifts are almost always exactly alike; with joy fading to tenderness and rising to unbridled excitement in the same moments. Our hearts are perfectly in sync. It's the neatest thing...

This night, we finally decided on a name for our baby: Alina Wildstar Windsong. Eolas had thought of it, since Alle, the blackberry dryad, saved Alina when my body was too poisoned to support life. I was thrilled with the idea - it was by far the best name either of us had come up with, and we were also in agreement on the exact spelling. Not caring that Eolas was still sopping wet, I wrapped my arms around him and burrowed my head into his shoulder, gazing through half-closed eyes at the fire.

We stood there, holding each other and watching the fire, silent and lost in thought, for over an hour. There was no need for words. Being together was more than enough. The perpetually burning bonfire crackled and snapped and tossed sparks in the evening stillness, and once in a while my sharp ears picked up the far-off hoot of an owl or the high-pitched squeak of a bat. A fox went sneaking past the blackberry hedge, but I wasn't worried: Alle's bushes were thick with thorns, and she would let no beast in uninvited. Little prowling foxes with bad tempers and snouts full of sharp teeth were certainly _not_ invited.

I gave a little sigh and closed my eyes altogether, thinking back over the marvelous moments since Eolas had come into my life. I remembered, too well, the angry, frightened creature I'd been, wishing Eolas would go away and leave me alone before he had a chance to hurt me. I knew that if he got close to me, I'd be completely vulnerable to him, and if he left like Australis did...

I'd never recover. So I didn't let him get close until I was too sleepy to put up walls around my heart anymore. And when I was drifting somewhere between consciousness and dreams, Eolas whispered words to me that I'll never forget:

"Violar... I know I can't replace your friendship with Australis, but... but I hope I am proving to be a true friend to you... because I really want to be, with all my heart."

It was a chilly February night, but I warmed all over. That he would say that to me, after he'd seen the worst facets of my character, was something I couldn't quite reconcile, but I was too weary to puzzle it out logically that night. I gratefully accepted it, because I wanted it, very badly. I needed it. And I sensed that he wanted to give it to me as much as I wanted to receive it. I reached back in the dark and found his hand, winding my fingers through his. "You are, Eolas," I whispered, and I felt his contentment increase as I fell asleep near him, with our twined hands as fragile link between us... and our hearts.

That link has only grown stronger with time. Our marriage had been a tremendous blessing to both of us; I hoped it could be a great blessing to the rest of Narnia as well.

I sensed Eolas was thinking along the same lines while he stood there, his hand running gently up and down my back in a sort of soothing caress.

Without warning, both of us grew playful.

"You said we could play the flying game," I reminded him.

He poked me in the ribs, eliciting a little squeal and some giggles. "You're just as bad as the Kitling. I'm going to have to call you Centaurling if you keep this up."

Laughing, I pushed his hand away and backed up, then broke into a little skittering canter around Eolas, throwing plenty of bounces into my strides. I stopped in front of him, hopping up and down - which must have been a rather humorous spectacle: A full-grown pregnant centaur mare, bouncing on her hooves.

I held out my hands to Eolas in an exaggerated imitation of Odell. "Can Centaurling have a hug?" I gave an ottery whimper, then hopped and begged foalishly without a shred of dignity or shame. "Please please please?"

Eolas burst into hearty laughter. Gathering me in his arms, he gave me a kiss on the nose. "I could never refuse you."

A shudder ran through me and my knees went weak. Good thing he held me in a firm embrace, or Alina's weight combined with mine might have been enough to take me down. Nearly a year after our marriage, Eolas still has that effect on me, and I doubt that will ever change. I surely hope not.

"Not only can I not refuse you, but I don't _want_ to," I murmured, gazing up at him. "By the mane, I am the luckiest centaur in Narnia..."

He brushed that aside. He does that, sometimes. His past still haunts him too much for my taste, and he has a hard time believing what I tell him... which has caused me to quadruple my efforts. I do succeed part of the time.

But not tonight.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." The golden chestnut centaur shrugged. "You'll never guess what I said today. It was tantamount to sacrilege."

I drew back and gave him a mock scandalized look. "You! Nooo!" I set a hand over my supposedly shaken heart. "I don't believe it. But do tell." I grinned.

Eolas was solemn as he went on. "Odell was chasing around my legs, and I jumped and caught him, and rolled on the grass of the riverbank, tickling him. He told me for fun that the mud monster would get me, and I laughingly said that the stars told me that I would defeat the mud monster in the end. Then I realized what a shocking thing I said, and I still can't get over my temerity."

His brown eyes were so serious and troubled that I couldn't voice laughter. But really, it was hilarious that he was unnerved by this particular situation. If he keeps this up, I'll insist we move out of the Council Ring so we can be free of their oppressive influence. I mean it.

I tapped his nose with my fingertip. "Oh, I don't think that's so bad. I think it was a rather adorable thing to say," I reassured him. "Aslan doesn't mean for us to never have a bit of fun, love, and I imagine Odell was thrilled out of his mind to know that his heroic uncle will vanquish the mud monster." I smiled at him with my own brand of adoration. "And you let me know when this epic match will take place. I want a front-row vantage point when you give this mud monster the thrashing he so richly deserves."

Eolas chuckled tightly. Poor fellow, he tries so very hard to do everything right in the eyes of Narnia, to make up for breaking all the rules in his foalhood...

"Still, if any of the other Council members had been there, they'd have been greatly offended. I told Odell that, and he said they were a bunch of stuffy fuddy centaurs whom Aslan would tell off for not being friendly." He couldn't help grinning, his brown eyes shining wine-red in the firelight. "Isn't that the cutest thing to say?"

I squealed with laughter. "Such wisdom! Out of the mouths of otter kits!"

My husband loosened up somewhat and laughed. "Yes indeed. And he said that without knowing how absolutely true it is. Offensive or not, I have to say it."

I glanced over my shoulder at the darkened entrance to the Sanctuary, where many of the Council members were, even now, slumbering peacefully without the faintest clue of the shocking behavior taking place in the very Ring itself. Something about that filled me to the brim with mischief, and I looked at Eolas with a roguish gleam in my eyes. "He's right on too. Aslan would. He sure would. I'd love to see him take on Borealis... I mean that."

Eolas joined in. "They're all so busy being dignified, and paying attention to proper decorum, that they don't have any fun."

I nodded vigorously. "Yes! And too busy to take time and smell the roses, or to play in the river with a young otter pup, or to... to jest about defeating mud monsters and prophecies in the stars like that. It takes a greater imagination and a bigger heart." I smiled. "Which you've got, Eolas."

Laughing, but somewhat uneasily, Eolas turned his shaggy head and looked at the great slab of ancient stone that was the Council Ring. "It troubles me a little, though... It's a great honor to be here, part of the Council, and I don't wish to offend any of its members. If another centaur were to hear about today's happenings, well, he or she might think me most undignified and indecorous."

Time to tease him. I shrugged and grinned. "I won't tell."

That earned me a kiss on the cheek. "I know you won't, sweeting. But I think this strange uncentaurian sense of fun I possess is left over from the bad old days of my foolish foalhood."

I giggled, both at his words and at being kissed. "I love your sense of fun. I'd find life with a Borealis type unbearable, you know."

He grinned. "So would I."

Abruptly I took his face between my hands and looked deep into his eyes, letting my mirth fade away. "I'm in a very playful mood, love, and so delighted to see you. But honestly, if something happens because of today's escapades, it's an _honor_, not a dishonor. I would rather be kicked out of the Council for playing with an otter kit than ignore the otter kit and live up to the Council's stiff expectations."

Eolas tried - and failed - to hide a smirk. "Why does that not surprise me?"

He had the nerve to _smirk_ at me! I wrinkled my nose and gave him a sudden fierce look. "You just keep smirking at me and _see_ what happens."

That gave him butterflies. Half-laughing, he asked, "Oh, is that a threat?"

Grinning dangerously, I raised my eyebrows and advanced on him. "Oh no, it's a _promise_."

Eolas' smile melted. "Oh my, I knew you were going to say that."

I gasped and stared at him incredulously. All thoughts of what I intended to do to him for the very very forgivable infraction of smirking at me vanished. Suddenly I let loose a shout of laughter and threw my hands heavenward. "Aslan, I love this life!"

The warmth of Eolas came close, and I felt his hands on mine as we reached for the stars together. "So do I, love, and what a sad life it would be without you in it."

My tail whipped back and forth energetically, my emotions being too much to contain without some form of expression. I lowered my eyes from the skies and smiled into Eolas' beautiful golden-brown eyes. "Mine too. And Aslan created us for each other so we wouldn't go on having sad lives, and then he gave us this marvelous connection that just..." I trailed off and shook my head, unable to say what I was feeling. I twined my fingers through his and gave him a gentle kiss. "There aren't words, Eolas... Aslan has given me more gifts than I could have dreamed of asking for. My cup not only overflows, but floods the fields of Narnia."

Eolas' smile was beautiful to behold as he responded in kind. My tail settled down as, once again, excitement faded to warm tenderness. Eolas said he'd told Odell that being with me brought him joy... and I couldn't even say anything to that. How does one cope with the very idea of being someone else's joy? It's a lot to take in... and almost impossible to believe. But being with Eolas does the same for me, so at least I have some tangible evidence of what it must be like for him.

This love is too wonderful to keep to ourselves. It has tremendous power. Eolas was the one who gave words to my thoughts, without even knowing it, saying he wished we could share this joy with others.

"We're going to share it with Alina, for starters," I answered. "And you've been doing the same for Odell... and because of our love and the closeness of our relationship, I feel that you've been representative of both of us."

He smiled and tucked stray windblown strands of hair behind my ear. "I'm so glad you think that way."

How could I not? "You and I... we aren't separate anymore. You're a part of me..." A deep, ageless feeling came over me like a familiar cloak at the memory. "Everything changed, well, from the day we met. And when we pricked our fingers on that thorn..." I shuddered. "And then when we were married. And it continues to change."

I confided to Eolas that I sing her snatches of poetry and am in the process of making up a lullaby that can be her very own. "I want to give her that," I said.

Eolas expressed his delight with the idea, and I warmed all over. I stroked the side of his face, my hand trailing down his soft waterfall of a beard. "She's a part of both of us, sweetheart, and I just... I can't wait to see her."

Excitement was mirrored in his firelit eyes, and he took me in his arms again. I tucked my head against his shoulder and lowered my eyelids, and for the second time that evening, we stood for a long time in silence, listening to the soft wind's night song and the merry dance and crackle of the bonfire. Shadows played around the Council Ring, leaping away like tiny sprites before the fire could see them, as if in continued defiance of the stiff image the centaurs tried to project about ourselves. The thought alone was enough to bring a smile and a soft chuckle from me.

I nestled against Eolas, watching the flames flickering through half-lowered eyes, smelling the wholesome wood smoke tingeing the air; running my fingers through my husband's beard and feeling rather content with life. Sensing my mood, and sharing it, Eolas simply held me close and let his own thoughts take him where they would.

Time passed. Whether it was hours or mere minutes, I don't know. Whether I was fully conscious or nodded off, I don't know. But Eolas' warm hand brushing over my cheek brought me from my reverie, and I looked up into his eyes, which were soft and placid. The fact that I had been the one to bring that expression to him was... heartwarming and deeply satisfying in ways I couldn't begin to describe.

"I can't imagine being more content than this," he told me quietly. "Except at this moment, I'm getting very hungry."

And so was I. I unshouldered my pack and drew forth the bunches of grapes I'd brought all the way from Bergdale and saved for this special occasion. We promptly burnt them, of course. And they were predictably horrible. But it brought a smile to us both to remember the times at the top of Mount Tor, where we struggled and struggled _not_ to burn grapes and ended up doing just that. It took a great toll on my pride - for which I am very grateful, now. I was so determined to be perfect, and to find that I couldn't even correctly dry a bunch of grapes was... actually painful. But it put me on a level playing field with Eolas.

Which was very scary. At the time, I'd rather have faced two werewolves in hand-to-paw combat than admit equality with another - especially when that other creature was a male centaur.

I remembered then another day, after we were engaged, when Eolas voiced his concern that he wouldn't be enough for me and that he would indeed someday hurt me. I was emphatically opposed to such an idea. "The only thing that can be wounded now is my pride, which I am more than willing to sacrifice for your sake."

What an incredible journey! Pride had been a difficult thing to let go of, and a painful one as well: Pride was my shield and my protection. Without it, I was completely vulnerable. But I was desperate to get closer to Eolas, and pride prevented that and kept us apart.

It was pride or Eolas: I made my choice. And I was much happier without that cold heart I once had the misfortune of calling my own.

Best of all, Eolas kept me safe in my vulnerability. We had our occasional disagreements - rare though they were - but Eolas never, ever tried to wound me, or to manipulate my feelings for him to force me to do whatever he wanted. Eolas always, always gave me freedom, and I tried my best to give it back to him.

Aside from that sort of safe, Eolas' presence brings with it security. He organizes everything: The Sanctuary has been neat since his arrival in the Ring, and the larder has been well-stocked and also kept perfectly clean. This fastidious touch may or may not be lost on the other centaurs - I don't know. But after a long night of fishing, to come in weary and hoof-sore and find everything well-kept and in order is an indescribable feeling of... belonging, somehow. Of coming home.

I told him that I knew he made many of the items in the larder basket. I'd had some grilled cheese sandwiches the other night and I was so utterly certain of his involvement in their creation that I went out on a limb and said so. Sure enough...

I smiled to myself. Life was wonderful.

I sat next to him, and we ate a delicious - and very large - supper, all along the lines of the well-rounded diet Eolas insists upon for the baby and me. All the while we chatted and laughed, and once Eolas was finished with his food, he took to teasing me, and running his hand through my hair, and putting his arm around my shoulders. He was simply radiating affection. When he gets like that, I can't resist him.

I leaned my head back on his shoulder and looked up at the stars, then smiled over at him. "When I pictured the centaur I would one day marry, I imagined what he would be like," I confided. "But my dream centaur fell so far short of you that I don't even miss having that dream centaur around."

He gazed down at me with warm mischief in his eyes. "Good, because if you did, I'd have to be jealous."

He laughed, and I almost did. But the thought of Eolas being jealous of a dream centaur on my behalf was... strangely heartwarming.

Wriggling my fat pregnant body around to face him, I hugged his neck tightly and nuzzled at his cheek. "You have nothing and no one to be jealous of, love. We're nearing the season we found each other in - spring. We've nearly spent an entire year together, and I'm just so happy I can hardly stand it."

He was a little confused by my reaction. "I know how you feel, and I have no reason to be jealous. I was just teasing you."

I drew back to look at him. "I know." I swallowed hard. "I know you very well." Leaning close, I kissed his heart, then turned to my pack and rummaged around until I drew forth a little crown of dandelions.

Eolas' eyes illuminated when he saw it. "Oh, Violar, that's lovely!"

I smiled at his exclamation and flushed with pleasure. Then I set the crown on his head, arranging the drooping yellow flowers neatly over his brow. "Now you're the Dandelion King."

He chuckled. "That's right, I'm just a common weed."

I giggled. He knew good and well what dandelions symbolized to me - everything that lovers wish to give one another: The sun, the moon, and the stars. And he was being a tease anyway.

"Well... I love my Common Weed, because he's the Dandelion King."

We laughed. Eolas said he always liked dandelions because they had such character, and he couldn't understand why people maligned them and overlooked them so easily.

I pondered that. "I thought it was rather fitting, really... I value you and treasure you, and those who overlooked you..." I smiled. "They don't know what they're missing."

Eolas actually blushed. "I feel the same way about you."

Delight sprung inside of me. I brushed my hand over the back of his neck, thrilled to see the effect I was having on him. It's not easy to cause a male centaur to blush - not even one as tenderhearted as Eolas. I counted that moment sacred because I had managed to accomplish the feat.

Suddenly I was bursting with ideas. "Oh... my. The Rose married the Dandelion. Now there's a new legend to go with the Calormene one you once told me about, where the bird and the White Rose loved each other."

Eolas grew thoughtful. "Yes indeed, I'll have to make up a story about that... how the most beautiful flower in all the land actually consented to marry a common, nondescript dandelion."

I laughed, embarrassed. He was _not_ common or nondescript, and I was far from a perfect rose. I'd been... downright nasty when he met me. "Um... as long as you make it clear that the rose was very wounded - scarred and unbeautiful and trampled in the dust until only a few tattered petals and a lot of prickly thorns remained, until a dandelion came and shined its sunlight on her and healed her." Then I cocked my head, continuing a rather strange train of thought. "I wonder what that makes Alina..."

There was an explosion of laughter from Eolas. "A danderose!" He exclaimed. "Or a roselion?!"

I squealed with mirth and thwacked my smoky tail. "Exactly! Now we have some nicknames for her already, and she hasn't even been born yet!"

We were laughing. I set my hand in Eolas' and watched the firelight chase shadows and the cold of coming winter from the Council Ring, but the warm happy glow I felt had nothing to do with the fire whatsoever. Eolas was a fire all his own...

I rubbed my hand gently over my bulging black side. "Alina is going to be a happy little girl, I think." I suspended my own judgment for the time being, suddenly curious to know what Eolas thought. "What is the happiest of flowers to you, love?"

He gave that some thought and decided on the dandelion. "It's so sunny yellow, and it never minds where it places its roots. It'll spring up anywhere, and sends it seeds flying to any place. It's always adaptable."

I studied Eolas' continence while I listened. It was plenty sunny enough for me, and wholly delightful. I ran my fingers through his soft hair. "That you are," I replied, implying that every last one of his observations applied to him as well. "I love the 'lion' part of its name. It fits you... right down to your shaggy mane."

Eolas grinned. He liked that.

"But you're already the dandelion," I remarked, beginning to smile. "I was thinking that Alina might be... a daisy."

"Oh, yes, daisies are lovely, sunny flowers."

I nodded eagerly. "Alina will be too, I just know it. I can sort of tell what her personality will be like, just by the way she moves inside me and how she kicks. She's such an energetic, perky little thing." _And I'm going to miss carrying her like anything._ I switched my dark tail over my side in a soothing, protective motion, and I kept that thought to myself. Suddenly I smiled. "And," I added, looking up at the stars for effect, "she's going to be a Daddy's girl too. You watch."

Eolas was laughing, and made no protest whatsoever about my blatant violation of centaur protocol, much to my delight.

Then I looked up at him earnestly. "I did want to know though... how you planned on playing the flying game with me."

He chuckled. "Oh, that's easy, my love, since you're shorter than me."

I bit my lip out of sheer excitement. "Sometimes I don't notice that small fact... whoa!"

Eolas suddenly picked me up around my slim waist and hoisted me, albeit not without some difficulty, into the air, and before I knew what was happening, he'd broken into a swift canter. Just like that, wind was rushing through my hair and the blackberry hedge was whipping past, and I tucked my limbs close to my body and spread my arms like wings... and I was flying.

Eolas wasn't done. After a couple of circuits around the Ring to build up a solid head of speed, he suddenly tossed me as high as he could - just a few feet, which still astonished me - and caught me neatly to buffer my fall. I landed on all four hooves and looped my arms around his neck, breathless with delight.

Eolas was puffing slightly, but smiling. "And that, heart of me, is the flying game."

I was utterly beside myself. I hugged Eolas close, at a loss for words. "Wow... oh wow. Oh," I stammered.

Eolas chuckled. "It's a great deal easier with Odell. He's nothing but a feather in comparison to you."

I giggled against his beard. "It's all Alina. I'm telling you."

He was laughing, probably knowing I wasn't truly concerned about my weight at all, and that I kept bringing it up just to tease him. "I love you as you are anyway, heart of my heart."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, gazing up at him with overlarge eyes. He'd done it again - my knees were all weak and I could feel tears surging to the surface, and if I wasn't careful he was going to reduce me to crying yet again. I leaned against him, my mind still reeling from the exhilaration of what I'd just experienced. My husband was one incredibly strong centaur, to haul me - and the baby - around like little more than a giant's sack. For a minute, I really did feel like a feather.

I said so. "I tell you, that's a welcome relief to feeling like a walking anvil most of the time."

He chuckled at my statement. "I didn't know I could toss you either, though you didn't go nearly as high as Odell."

I smiled to myself and was quiet. So was Eolas. But a moment later, he suddenly pulled me close to his chest.

"Aslan has given us so very much," he said with great fervency. "I am grateful beyond my powers of speech for my most precious of gifts, the loveliest rose in my garden."

_Uh oh..._ Too late. I had no time to prepare for _that_. Eolas being Eolas, he wasn't prone to flattery, and he had proven his honesty time and time again. In any case, it caught me completely off-guard. I gave a strangled little cry in my throat and nestled against him, closing my eyes and letting the brimming tears spill over into his beard.

Sniffling, I hid my face and gushed out incomprehensible feelings. I couldn't help it. "I just don't know what I did to deserve you," I whispered, hiding my face in his tunic. My voice sounded muffled by the material, even to me. "It's just that... that I gave up on all my dreams, and Aslan resurrected them from the ashes of the North Tower, and they were a thousand times better than any dream I've ever dreamed..."

Eolas acted like he didn't know what to do with me. I couldn't blame him; I'd melted into an emotional mess and I suppose that was rather difficult to deal with. I couldn't do anything about it, though. I just clung to him and cried.

I felt my husband gently tweak a lock of my hair. "I think I'd better stop making romantic speeches. It seems like every time I do, you burst into tears."

I choked with laughter. Looking up at him, I smiled and rubbed affectionately at his shoulder. "I suppose but... it's overwhelming, in a really good way..." I sniffled. "Please don't ever stop. I can't take it, but I can't get enough of it either." So saying, I brushed away a lingering tear. "And I'm so, so grateful... I've changed, a lot. My restless temper has gone quiet..."

"Mine too, love," answered Eolas gravely. "You've tamed this dandelion, insofar as he can be tamed."

I gave a half-chuckle. "I didn't know dandelions needed taming."

"Oh, but of course they do - more than any other flower. Dandelions go anywhere and do anything they want."

I cleared my throat and looked up at him curiously. "Do you miss... freedom?"

His response was immediate and emphatic. "Love, I never knew the meaning of the word til I met you."

Lightheaded and a bit dizzy with emotion, I dropped my forehead against his chin. After a moment, I sighed deeply and managed a single word. "Wow."

"Honestly... I was caught in the prison of my own mind until I met you, torturing myself with my own fears."

I heaved a deep, deep sigh. "Fears of what, sweet?"

"Fears that I wasn't good enough - would never be good enough. Fears that I was a terrible centaur; that I'd shamed my family."

I slowly nodded. "I... it was the most wonderful thing... for Aslan to grant me the key to your cell, to your heart... and to release you so you could fly." I shifted hooves. "It's just that... you didn't _really_ believe it... until you read that letter I wrote after we were married, and I was beginning to panic about losing you."

"Oh, you'd never have lost me, love. I'm a terribly determined centaur."

I broke into a smile and tenderly brushed the back of my knuckles over his chin. "Yes you are," I murmured, "but I didn't mean losing your love. I meant losing _you_." To death, of course, but I hate to voice that word, so I didn't. Smiling, I went on. "I quit worrying about losing your love by the time we got engaged. After the day of the Rose, I was secure in your affection for me... I was assured that it wasn't superfluous or changeable, as others in my life had been."

He was nodding, and I lost myself in his warm gaze. Nothing in the outside world existed beyond those two deep honey-colored wells of love, all directed onto me. "You wouldn't have lost me either. You released me from my cell soon after we met, only I was so used to it that I was a little hesitant to step entirely out of it."

"Yet even in your fear, you stopped to help a poor trampled rose... who was doing her level best to prick you full of thorns and make you go away again. Having you there, doing all you were for me, even the things you did for me unintentionally, were more painful than anything I've ever experienced." I swallowed. That was the truth, yet it was an understatement.

Eolas nodded again. "I know. But as I said, I'm determined." Then he was grinning.

I grinned back. "That's right... 'dande-lion'."

He smiled, and his eyes shimmered in fire and starlight. "To be free of your own prison, you had to go through a little pain. I didn't want to hurt you, but at the same time, I knew you had to hurt to heal."

Gravely, I nodded, tucking a hind hoof to rest it. "And the same for you. I knew I was causing you all kinds of pain, but I wanted to see you well, so badly... badly enough that it was worth it."

"Yes, and part of me understood that."

"And then... I knew it hurt you to have to hurt me, because I know what pain I felt in pushing you beyond your own comfort zones and facing those frightening specters of your past."

He was running his fingers gently through my long near-black hair. "I wanted to shield you, too, and I still do... both from emotional and physical pain."

Caught up in memory, I didn't notice the sober shade that passed over his continence. "More than anything, I wanted to shield you from everything that caused you emotional harm, but we had to go there. All I could do was be there with you, and suffer as you suffered, and I would gladly do it all a thousand times more if I could."

Eolas' thoughts had drifted to another plane altogether. "Unfortunately, when Alina comes, I'll be helpless to shield you, and that really bothers me."

_Ooh... why did he have to bring that up?_ My lips twitched. "I am... a little... scared."

He was quick to shift back to comforting me. "That's completely understandable. This is your first time with child."

Halfheartedly, I nodded. "Yes, there is that... and there's also the fact that my mother died giving birth to me." We'd been through _that_ before, in the early days of my pregnancy, when the prospect of sudden death had caused me to freak out for a few weeks. I wasn't afraid for myself, much. I was heartsick at the idea of leaving Eolas alone. I couldn't bear to think of what that would do to his tender heart. I'd shut off love for him and pushed him away... and not to protect myself, but to protect him. Poor Eolas was completely bewildered and blamed himself for doing something, _something_ wrong, and he didn't know what.

I could only last so long under the suffering of my beloved. Finally I broke down and told him the truth, and then gave him a letter I'd written one dark and sleepless night, written from the depths of my soul as a farewell. In case anything ever happened to me.

I closed my eyes hard to partially block the painful memory of how much agony Eolas had been in when he read it. What hurt him the most was the thought of knowing how much I loved him... _after_ I was gone. I promised myself never to do such a thing to him again. No matter how long we have, I'm going to give him all my love, and then pray that he'll muddle through somehow - with Aslan's help - if any of my forebodings came to pass.

I was brought from my muses with a sudden rise in anger from Eolas. He stomped his hoof. "Well, if I have anything to say about it, you will come through this unscathed."

Startled, I opened my eyes and drew back to study him. "Eolas," I questioned cautiously, "what do you mean?"

"I mean that I'll do everything in my power to see that you're well taken care of and protected. And I DON'T want you to think about dying."

That was his way of comforting me, of course. I slowly smiled, still keeping a wary eye on him. "Alright... and I'll try not to think of it, though I admit it's not easy. Though I got through the worst of that... stage... earlier in my pregnancy." Somewhat ruefully, I added, "I really can be a bear sometimes - anytime I'm frightened, it seems."

Eolas chuckled. "Don't I know it."

I ought to have called him a squirrel for that comment, but I found his observation on my character flaws oddly pleasing. So I simply set my blushing cheek against him with a contented little smile. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of death, but it has lost a lot of its sting, thanks to your love. I'm just... not really afraid of facing anything as long as you're there to face it with me. You're really all that matters."

Eolas' dander was still up. "Nothing ruffles my metaphorical feathers more than the possibility of harm coming to you, Violar."

Vengeance was all mine! Giggling suddenly, I pounced. "Don't I know it."

Deep laughter boomed out over the peaceful Council Ring. "Oh, we're quite a pair."

Now that he'd joined my mirth, I laughed harder. There was nothing funnier than how beautifully he'd unknowingly set himself up and then stepped right smack into the trap. "Aren't we though? But I do love your temper," I added, grinning. "It's kind of new for me... I've never had anyone get mad on my behalf before. It's taken some of the temper out of me, because I've lived my life having to fight for myself." I gazed up at him somewhat mischievously. "I haven't had any sudden urges to visit Ettinsmoor or anything of that nature."

"Oh by the mane, no!" Eolas exclaimed, his eyes flashing. Then he settled down and smiled. "But you're very special, Violar, and very much worth fighting for."

I took his face between my hands. "I never knew," I said quietly, gazing directly into his eyes. "I never knew there was anything at all special about me... and now I don't care how special or unspecial I am, as long as I have your love. Nothing else matters to me, Eolas... nothing..." Giddiness invaded me again. "And I haven't had the urge to test my wits by hunting on the moors in a long time. Life has taken on much stronger meaning." I slowly smiled. "Again, thanks to you. If I'm really in the mood for thrills, I'll just ask if we can play the flying game."

Eolas grinned. "Good."

The conversation took a sudden detour through the melancholy, and it was entirely my fault: Bringing up Ettinsmoor yielded inevitable results. "I would fight and die for you in a heartbeat, even though I know you'd rather take the role of protector in this family," I said to him.

"Your protection is welcome, love, as long as you never have to die for me."

I suddenly adopted a fierce expression. "If it ever comes to it, you won't die alone," I promised. Then I playfully tugged at a lock of his shaggy brown hair. "I can pack quite a punch, remember."

He smiled. "I do remember."

"Alina has been working on her kicks, too," I remarked. "She must be deadly accurate by now. I pity the neevil that upsets her." Then I was giggling and growing more full of mischief by the minute. "Come, come now," I baited Eolas; "You DO want to see what a werewolf with a black eye looks like, right?"

It worked like a charm. Eolas chuckled. "I do admit that would give me quite a lot of satisfaction, especially if accomplished by a daughter of mine."

I wrinkled my nose at him. He grinned. And then we were laughing.

"You know, there is one thing... just one thing in particular... that you did for me, once, and it has had repercussions that carry over, even now," I said.

Full of curiosity, Eolas smiled at me. "What's that, my heart?"

Fighting to maintain my train of thoughts in the rush of warmth which threatened to sweep them all beyond recall, I smiled and set my hand protectively over Eolas' heart. "You went with me into the very teeth of Ettinsmoor, and we gave Maeta a rose. You have no idea how much I needed to face the worst of my fears and be able to just walk away."

My husband shrugged noncommittally and raised his eyebrows. "I'm glad we risked danger and did that, then." Abruptly he frowned. "The other time, when we went after a frog... that was just foolish. I should have known better, really."

I chuckled, entirely undisturbed at the mention of the would-be catastrophe on our very wedding day, when we went hunting for a frog and caught ourselves a giant instead - a big nasty one. Frog legs are a special favorite of Eolas', and that's why we went after the frog even onto the moors. "We were excited and feeling invincible. Love sometimes has that effect..."

Eolas' self-deprecation was fast disintegrating under my treatment. "True... though it's better by far no frog legs at a wedding reception than to have the frog legs and a dead fiance."

Ugh! I refused to be dragged down this time. Lightheartedly I rolled my eyes and laughed. "That's such a morbid thing to say. But you know," I went on amiably, "Aslan kept us safe. We were just new lovers and we didn't know what to do with ourselves. Now it's had a chance to settle into our souls and take root in our hearts, and it's becoming... a part of who we are. So now we have our wisdom back."

Another very humorous thought struck me, and laughing I shared it. "Eolas, we are such late bloomers. To think, we have had our foolish youthful moments so late in life!"

Eolas couldn't help laughing. "I certainly hope so."

"Well _I've_ got _mine_ back," I retorted playfully.

He poked me in the ribs. "Speak for yourself, little one. The entirety of my youth was foolish, alas."

I burst out laughing. "Oho! You don't think leaping off a cliff to imitate eagles was the height of stupidity?"

Eolas was laughing at me. "Well, perhaps not the _height_ of stupidity, but extremely dangerous. Thank goodness I wasn't around; I'd have had a fit."

Grinning, I hugged his neck. "I made perfectly sure no one was around because my father would've had a fit too, lovey. But we both survived our mutual stupidity to have more monumental stupidity later on, when we were too bedazzled with each other to think straight." Chuckling, I added, "Though... I'm still as bedazzled with you as ever." Suddenly I threw my hand over my eyes and stumbled backwards dramatically. "Ahhh... I can't SEE!"

My husband caught a bad case of my own butterflies, and he went for a set of theatrics. "And darn it, I just had to have a frog! Since I was destined to have an attack of stupidity, I should have gone off by myself."

"Ah but remember, I sanctioned the venture," I reminded him with faux archness; "I had to have an equal share in the stupidity. I'm out to prove I can be just as dumb as you..." Giving him a brilliant smile, I winked.

That was too much for Eolas. Throwing his arms around me in a fierce hug, he rocked me back and forth. "You silly darling. What am I going to do with you?"

Giggling, I returned his crushing embrace with one of my own. I'm a pretty strong centaur too, you know. "Love me to death," I answered boldly, wriggling upwards to give him an equally fierce kiss.

The word "death" caused a shiver to run through the chestnut centaur, and he broke the kiss fairly quickly. "Love you to life, maybe, but never to death. Except that I'll love you until we die, of course."

I pretended to consider that. Then I smiled, my eyes dancing. "Ooh... well that'll work, I guess." I softened. "I love you very much, Eolas. That'll change, though." Eolas' smile wilted until I went on. "It's going to get better."

He laughed, minorly relieved. "You had me worried there for half a second."

I kissed the end of his nose in reply. Laughing, he took my hand in his and led me into the Sanctuary. Another wonderful night had come to an end, and it was time to get some rest before the sun came up - though the sunrise wasn't far off. Sleep was going to be an even rarer commodity after Alina's birth, and I had to enjoy it while I could.

Lowering my bulky body to the ground with some difficulty, I smoothed the wrinkles from our cloak out of longtime habit. Then I patted the spot next to me. "Come help me keep Alina warm."

Eolas was more than happy to oblige. He wrapped his arms around me, and I let the whole world be lost outside the fortress he wound about me: Eolas was my whole world. Nothing but my husband existed in that moment. Utterly content, we exchanged our traditionally sweet goodnights, complete with the pet names we'd given one another a long time ago. Then I fell asleep in his beard, smiling.


	21. Dancing with the Stars

Tonight I sit in the Council Ring, gazing up at the multitude of brilliant stars, wondering - not for the first time - what stars truly are, and what they look like up close, and why they shine more beautifully than any gem that can be found in the mines of the Dwarfs. Perhaps, if one could get close enough, one could hear them _singing_. Or maybe they dance in the skies over Narnia, and that is why they appear to shimmer, when in reality it is only the swaying motion of faraway glitter that catches the eyes.

What I wouldn't give to dance with the stars.

Lowering my eyes, I gazed at my gently swelling black side and ran a hand over my little Alina. Alina... that's what Eolas and I decided to name her, because she was healed - thanks to Alle the dryad. I'll ask Alle to watch over Alina always, no matter what happens to Eolas and me. I feel better knowing that Alle will always have a home and a guardian here.

My time is coming. Very soon Alina will no longer be content to swim inside me and will want to see the stars for herself. I believe I've made her restless with the tales I tell and the songs I sing... and no wonder! My own stories captivate me, the storyteller.

Naturally, I don't look forward to my first labor. Hours of excruciating agony lie before me, and I won't lie: I'm frightened. It'll be a trial by fire, and I don't know if I'm ready to face it. Ready or not, those pains will start, and Alina will begin her descent into the world, to behold its beauties with her own eyes and run and play in its flowering fields with her own tiny hooves.

Eolas has promised me that he'll be by my side. I almost hate the idea of what the process will do to his tender heart more than I fear what lies in store for me. I try to be strong for his sake, but it does bother me. And when I'm in the midst of the delivery itself, I'll have no strength to spare on Eolas' behalf. It's going to be hard on both of us.

I'm just determined to survive. No matter what happened to my own mother when she gave birth to me, I have to see this through, somehow. I beg and plead with Aslan, entreating him to let everything be alright.

Suddenly it seemed to me as if a great plume of smoke blotted out the clouds. It was like a storm... a terrible one.

My eyes widened and my jaw fell slack. Rising slowly to my hooves, I cringed and backed towards the safety of the Sanctuary, in case something would threaten my life - and thusly Alina's. Alina jumped and kicked my side, annoyed that I'd ruined the calm of the moment, but I wasn't paying attention to her.

A white light slowly cut through the shadows like a silver sun through a dark fog, and I saw a massive shape coming out of the sky. It was huge and beast-like, and as it plodded downwards toward me, it shook out its great mane and opened golden eyes. Immediately relief washed over me and Alina settled down. It was Aslan.

A feeling of deja vu swept over me, but realization didn't come until Aslan began to sing me a familiar song.

_Return to me, come back again,_

_When winter turns to spring,_

_Autumn falls amid the roses,_

_And the soul once more sings._

_Return to me, and leaping come,_

_Over hills and wild plains,_

_Lands of gold, frosted fields,_

_Your enemy has been slain._

_Return to me, it is time,_

_The moon's secrets now reveal,_

_Hearing heart, step out in faith,_

_Dearest hopes becoming real._

_Return to me, treasure find,_

_Hidden under earth and rust,_

_Broken from ages past,_

_But heart of gold beneath the dust._

_Return to me, healing receive,_

_See the eagle, flying free,_

_Spirit, spread your wings,_

_Learn to soar in heaven's sea._

_Return to me, stars will fall,_

_Lost dreams coming true,_

_A ring, a never-ending circle,_

_An ancient blessing forged anew._

_Return to me, welcome back,_

_To you the sun I give,_

_A realm beyond imagination_

_Where few now yet live._

_Return to me, race the wind,_

_Rejoice in nature's jubilee,_

_Dwell in sunset's forests,_

_Dance the dance of eternity._

I closed my eyes and listened, softly smiling. This song Aslan sang to me, long ago, when I dwelt on the cold slopes of Mount Tor with two lonely young leopards for companions. We were freezing and starving to death at the time. I had been there for a hundred years and barely survived; the cats had taxed our resources, but I wasn't about to turn them away. Kalen and Riyal were charming, and suffering; and even if they hadn't been, still I would have taken them in. And when I stood contemplating our dire fate, since our food supplies were running low and another winter was only halfway over, I fell asleep on a ledge overlooking the land which was blanketed under snow at the time. And I had a dream. Aslan came to me and sang me this song, and bid me return to Narnia. The War had been over for four years, he said, and it was time for me to go back to my people, in "a ring, a never-ending circle" - which was the Council Ring.

After a tearful farewell to the cats, I told them to stay and departed to see if there was truth in that dream after all. It was true indeed, and the promises hidden in that song were all fulfilled... and they continued to be, even now.

Eolas himself was one of those promises. After I sang that to him, we gave each other nicknames: I called him Kindheart; and he referred to me as Goldenspirit. Days later, I suddenly realized that one single line was "Heart of gold beneath the dust". Eolas _was_ that heart of gold. In giving me the sun, and a realm beyond imagination where few now yet live, Aslan was giving me the gift of true love in Eolas. It's only too true that few yet dwell there. I count myself blessed... and undeservingly lucky.

Aslan is like that. He enjoys giving gifts to those who consider themselves completely unworthy of them. A humble heart he delights to pour out upon. Even now, almost a year after the greatest stage of my healing was made complete through Eolas, I am overwhelmed with gratefulness to the point of tears.

Aslan was gazing at me now with the same overflowing love in his eyes, and I held my hands up to him in a gesture of praise and joy.

"My promises I will continue to fulfill, my daughter," he said in his deep rumbling voice, which was somehow softer than the night breeze that brushed through my dark hair. "Do not be afraid. Your daughter will see beyond these horizons and one day touch the clouds."

I was so moved I could hardly speak. I looked up at him with wide gray eyes and spoke through trembling lips. "Th-thank you."

He smiled at me again. Then there came a rush of wind that rustled through the wintering blackberries, and it blew the clouds away, and the stars shone down again. Aslan had vanished.

I sighed happily. A vision... Aslan had given me a vision and reminded me of his faithfulness, all because I was a little worried about the future and the crossing I was about to make - the crossing into motherhood. He gave it as reassurance for me, and for Eolas, and even for little Alina.

From the reservoir of warmth that now pooled in my very soul, I gazed lovely at my side - and at the little filly who rested quietly there.

"Alina," I murmured, setting my hand against my midnight fur. I fancied she stirred a little and pressed harder against the touch, and it brought a smile to my lips. "Alina," I whispered again. "Little One, someday... Someday you will dance with the stars."

Alina cuddled and fell silent, as if she were sleeping.

It was a promise - Aslan's promise. I didn't know if it was literal or metaphorical. All I knew was, Eolas and I had danced with the stars, and Alina was going to see beyond our limited horizons.

I hoped that whatever she found there would bring her everlasting joy.

May you also dance with the stars.

Aslan's blessings,

Violar Wildrose Windsong


End file.
